Tale of the Conquered Overbearing
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: Antonio's dual personality disorder pushes him to unorthodox methodological treatment: rooming with the most stress-inducing Italian in the nation. But the ultimate goal begins to change from psychological to emotional, and Spain does not approve.
1. Chapter 1

Written with whitetyger123. There was no room in the summary. :(

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><p>After a quick greeting, Antonio sat down on the over-stuffed chair that he had grown so used to over the past few months. "I've been taking the medication and meditating, just like you told me." Because he would do anything to get over this, to be normal. Or at least… as normal as possible.<p>

Behind his wide, polished red oak desk, Dr. Weilschmidt regarded him without judgment or bias. The German nodded. "And how are you fairing, Antonio?"

"Not very well," the Spaniard admitted. "It just doesn't seem to be helping. I mean, he just came out yesterday at the supermarket." He bit his lip, remembering how he had suddenly lost control, just like it always happened, and right in front of a pretty woman! Ludwig pulled the glasses from behind his ears and folded them neatly, setting them on the desktop.

"You're right. That isn't good at all." He folded his hands in his lap. "Have you figured out what triggers 'Spain?'"

Suddenly the painting behind the psychiatrist became very interesting. Antonio never really liked talking about his 'problem' with such a direct approach. "No, I can never tell. I mean… he always comes out when it is a high stress situation, but then there are times, like at the supermarket when he will just come out of his own accord."

"And none of the treatments and exercises have worked?" he asked, just to clarify. "I know you're not fond of discussing this, but I'm here to help you. I can only help you if you talk to me."

Antonio sighed, because he knew very well. He had been to many doctors in his life, and Dr. Weilschmidt was one of the few good ones. "Well, I'm pretty sure 'Spain' hasn't hit anyone for a while, so maybe they're making him more docile? But he still comes out!" He leaned back in his chair, and looked down. "I haven't trusted myself to have a relationship for over a year, since I'm always too afraid to tell them that I have two personalities."

The psychiatrist nodded and leaned back in his chair. "I understand. You have quite a bit to worry over with your disorder, which is why it's important to find the trigger. I know I don't have to tell you how rare it is for someone with multiple personality disorder to have only one other personality to fret over, and rarer still that the two share one stream of consciousness. You are terribly lucky, sir, and I do not believe in luck."

Yes, he knew everyone said he was lucky, and he knew that everyone else he had met with multiple personalities had it harder than he did, but that didn't mean that his situation wasn't still problematic. "I still want him gone. Do you know how many people 'Spain' has pissed off, and then they end up taking it out on me! And the whole one stream of consciousness thing isn't completely true either. Sometimes he will just block me out completely." Usually he could see everything 'Spain' could see, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Ludwig regarded Antonio with deep blue calculating eyes in a fashion that did not pry out of malicious intent- rather, he aimed to see through any barriers the Spaniard was putting up, searching for a place unguarded that he might bring forth answers like water from a well. "Do you think he would speak with me now?"

For a minute, Antonio tried. He really did! He thought of every instance he could think of when 'Spain' had come out, but nothing happened. Finally he gave up. "Sorry, he usually only shows up when he wants to. I can't really get him to talk to you." It wasn't that 'Spain' didn't like Ludwig. Their likes and dislikes were the same. It was just that the other personality liked being difficult.

Ludwig nodded shortly. "It's fine, don't stress yourself. I just wanted to see if you could." He sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk. "We have tried every orthodox method in the book," he said finally after a long moment of thought, picking and choosing his words as carefully as one chooses eggs at the supermarket. "It obviously hasn't helped. I can think of no other way than to try something unorthodox." He paused. "But only if that's alright with you."

"Well, as long as it's not shock therapy or something, then I would be fine with pretty much anything. As long as I get over this." After all, he had had this disorder since he was a child, and was sick and tired of it. Antonio wished more than anything that 'Spain' would just disappear.

Ludwig nodded. "I've given it a lot of thought," he said sincerely, "and though it may not exactly be a trigger in specific terms, you've told me that 'Spain' only appeared in the past during moments of extreme agitation or exhaustion. Is that correct?" When Antonio nodded, he went on. "So it stands to reason that you might find the specific trigger if you are paying attention under extreme duress, would it not?"

The brunet thought it over. It was certainly something he had never tried before. "Alright, so what exactly do you mean by that? Now I don't have as many stressful situations as when I was a teenager." But if he found the trigger, if there even was one, then he would maybe be able to avoid it.

Ludwig stood and began to pace slowly- walking helped his thought process, but he'd been told many times that quick pacing only served to make people nervous. "What if you were under near constant pressure? I know it doesn't sound pleasant, but if you think about it long-term, it might prove to be beneficial. If you were under continuous stress, would it not serve to strengthen your tolerance over time? And would it not help, at least in the beginning, to offer 'Spain' more room to take over, so you could watch his moves and see what makes him weak, and what makes him strong?"

"Well... as long as it doesn't interfere with my job. I don't want to be stressed out when dealing with the kids." As a pediatric physical therapist, he needed to be focused. That was another reason he wanted to get 'Spain' under control. He would die if his other personality got out around the kids. Luckily he hadn't so far, but then, he had only been in the career for a little over a year.

"Of course," Ludwig said with a short nod. "Now, all we need is to find a highly stressful environment for you to immerse yourself in. But only if you're sure." He looked to Antonio for certainty. "Do you really want to try this? It's completely based on theory, and nothing else. If your situation diminishes, I will personally make sure never to put you in such a situation again."

Just when Antonio was about to answer that yes, he was willing to try it, the door burst open and the cute Italian boy that was working as the secretary fell in. "Ludwig! I'm sorry, I wasn't listening, I just heard, I swear I wouldn't listen in! But, uh, I have an idea, because you need something stressful, ve?"

Ludwig frowned at his secretary and looked down at Antonio, who didn't seem to mind. "With Mr. Carriedo's permission, Feliciano," he conceded shortly.

The Italian clapped his hands and went further into the room. "Well, it just happens that my brother -you remember my brother right Ludwig? He's the one that threw coffee on that one client when he brought my lunch. Well, he's looking for a roommate because his last tenant moved out. So if you moved in with him, it would be a constant stressful situation! Like you need!"

Ludwig leaned against the desk, folding his arms over his chest. He considered it thoughtfully. When Antonio looked up at him, he nodded a little to himself. "Yes... living with Lovino _would_be a highly stressful situation indeed... it would take quite a bit of willpower to live with him." Ludwig glanced over toward Feliciano and gave him a short smile as if to tell him that no, he didn't approve of him listening in, but he did appreciate the very appropriate suggestion. "If you'd like, Antonio, Mr. Vargas may be able to arrange a meeting with his brother if you would like to explore this option. I would be there with you, of course, just in case Spain decided to emerge."

Antonio thought about his large condo, recently varnished, with a beautiful view. It was a nice place to live, but he did always find it fairly lonely. But did he really want to give it up for living with a man he didn't know, who sounded like he was very unpleasant? That didn't sound like a very good option. But he needed to fix this. For the kids. For himself. Besides, he was hardly home anyway.

"Yes, alright. I'll meet him."

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><p>It took all of two days for Feliciano to bed his brother's audience, which only served to wear on the Spaniard's nerves. When it came down to it, really, it was entirely up to the man he'd never met to let him, a man on the verge of psychosis, share his living space. He didn't blame the Italian for being skeptical or uncertain, but it didn't help his own anxiety.<p>

Fortunately, forty-eight hours later found a tall German, a wreck of a Spaniard, and a bouncy Italian before the door of a fairly classy apartment. Feliciano knocked on the door cheerfully. "_Fratello_, it's me! Open up, _per favore_!"

He knocked continuously and the moment Ludwig decided to grab his wrist to silence him was the moment that the door opened to reveal a man that looked rather like an extremely cranky Feliciano. "Really, Feli? You have to be that obnoxious in eight in the _fucking_morning?"

"Good morning, Lovi!" Feliciano said cheerfully, not perturbed at all by the harsh language as he leaned forward, kissing Lovino on both of his cheeks before waltzing into the apartment.

Lovino stepped aside so they could walk in, his eyes glancing up and down Antonio's body. When the Spaniard tried to greet him cheerfully with his hand outstretched, the Italian took it slowly. "So you're the crazy bastard Feli told me about over the phone."

"Lovi!"

Antonio held up his hand to silence the secretary, since he really should make a good impression. "It's alright. I admit that I'm not… of sound mind, as you might say." Besides, wasn't this the whole point of coming to live with this guy? He needed to be in a stressful situation, and this seemed to be just that. "It's nice to meet you! My name is Antonio but you can call me Toni if you want. And you're Lovi? That's such a nice name!"

Ludwig tried to warn him, before Lovino punched the Spaniard right in the face, but it was too late. "Um, sorry. I should have warned you. Only Feliciano can call him... that."

"Che," Lovino tutted, folding his arms over his chest. "Rule number one, you crazy motherfucker- don't get overly familiar. I'm your landlord while you're here, and don't you ever forget it."

Rubbing his sore cheek, Antonio gave a pout. "But I thought we would be roommates! That sounds way better than you being my landlord. You were told why I needed to live with you right?" If he was just his landlord, then didn't that mean he would hardly ever be there? For him to be stressed out, then Lovino would actually have to be there.

"Don't backtalk me, dipshit; I've got friends in low places." He huffed, retreating towards the kitchen. "As long as that crazy-ass motherfucker inside of you understands that I'm not playing around, I'll explain everything to you over coffee."

He glanced over his shoulder and turned a little red at the odd attention being paid toward him by the other three in the room. "Do you want the fucking coffee or not?"

Ludwig cleared his voice and ushered the other two into the kitchen. "I am glad you have considered this, Lovino. I believe it will really help his case." Well, hopefully. It was true that there was not a much more stressful situation than living with the older of the Italian twins, and maybe this would be just what it would take to make a breakthrough.

"Wow, this is a nice kitchen." Antonio looked around at all the supplies. "You must be a very good cook."

At that, Lovino turned his face away, feeling it warm pleasantly at the unfounded compliment. "Of course I'm a good cook," he mumbled, taking a few mugs from a polished cabinet and pouring steaming coffee into them from the rather large pot. "I don't allow shit in my kitchen. Half the reason why I told that last asshole to get the fuck out." He smirked, filling two of the cups with sugar and lots of creamer. "Couldn't cook worth a shit."

Well, maybe this was his chance to earn a few Brownie points. "Well, I'm very good at cooking. Especially if what I'm cooking calls for tomatoes, so I hope you like them." And if he didn't like them, Antonio supposed they could each cook their own meals separately. They all sat down at the counter on the stools. Feliciano seemed to be sitting really close to Ludwig, but he wasn't one to judge.

Lovino slid one of the heavily doctored coffees over to Feliciano and carelessly passed the two dark ones to his other guests without much finesse, nudging the sugar and creamer into the middle of the island. "Well, as long as you make lots of tomato dishes, we might just do a passable job of getting along. So tell me about yourself- not that I really care, but my little brother isn't exactly focused or coherent half the time, so I'm not sure I caught all of what he was trying to tell me."

"Hey!" Feliciano pouted, glancing to Ludwig for affirmation.

So Antonio started on the story that he had perfected with many doctor visits, the story that he was so used to telling that it was almost automatic. "When I was a kid, I was always interested in men, so I figured out that I was gay quite early. But my father started beating me because he didn't want a gay son, so I tried very hard to be straight, even going as far as kissing a girl when I was seven. But I soon developed this other personality that I called Spain because we had just moved away from my homeland. 'Spain' would act out what I wanted but was too afraid to do, or he would come out when my father would beat me. When I went into foster care as a teenager, I explored my sexuality, so Spain only came out when I was in trouble, or when I wouldn't speak up for myself. It was all in moderation for most of my life, until now. Lately, he has been coming out at any time, and since he is more angry and rude, it is a problem for me. So I want him gone."

"Damn." Lovino took a sip of the hot coffee. "You always so open with the less sunny parts of your past? I mean, your choice who you tell, but I just met you."

At this, the Spaniard grinned and leaned a bit closer. "But I will have to trust you, right? I mean, if you are going to help me, you have to know, don't you?" Besides, so many people knew his story already, what would one more hurt? He was no longer embarrassed about his past; it was just a fact of life.

The Italian shrugged. "I guess so." Quickly thereafter he scowled. "But if you think that that's grounds to make me spill anything about myself, you're gonna be disappointed."

He smiled kindly and heard two sighs of relief from Ludwig and Feliciano. "I don't mind, but it really isn't me you should be worrying about. 'Spain' doesn't consider anything too personal, so just be on guard for some of his questions. Or… really, anything he says."

The elder Vargas just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. If he tries anything, I'll break his legs at the knees. Be ready for that," he warned, taking another drink. He hoped to high heaven that whatever was inside of the stupid Spaniard was listening and buying into the bluffs; no way was he going to let anyone know that the prospect of getting accosted by a crazy made his hands shake. But he needed the money, and Antonio seemed like the type who could be suckered into housework and cooking.

Antonio's eyes widened, and he almost dropped his cup. "NO! Please don't! Spain is... well there aren't many people who can beat him in a fight! He would not hit someone unless provoked, but if he has reason to he will hurt you badly. I don't like seeing when he has hurt people." And then he fully caught up to the conversation, and gave a pleading smile to Lovino. "Besides, they are my legs as well. You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

Lovino shot a look at Ludwig, who'd been silent the entire time, simply observing the interaction between the two. The German looked back at Lovino with a short nod. "That's what you're getting into," he said shortly.

Lovino looked back and forth between them, his expression one of something akin to frustration before he heaved a sigh. "You'd better be _the_ _shit_ at cooking."


	2. Chapter 2

Both Ludwig and Feliciano decided to stay in the apartment for the duration of the evening so that they could see if the plan would work and bring 'Spain' out. Well, that was why Ludwig stayed. Feliciano just liked being around everyone and considered it to be more of a My Brother Finally Has a Potential Friend party. It grew very late very fast, though, and they had all moved into the living room to watch something on TV. Before long, the younger twin had fallen asleep against his boss, who was also beginning to nod off.

"You really like this show?" Antonio asked, gesturing to the screen where there were a great number of people who seemed to only serve the purpose of yelling and swearing. It didn't seem like they ever got anything done; they just got angry at each other.

Lovino shrugged, taking a ripe tomato from the basket on the coffee table and leaning back into his plush chair. "Nah, it's dumb as shit, but it's the only thing on at this time of night that's not more awful than anything else." But it was taking too long, and by the time Ludwig's head fell back against the trendy white sofa back, Lovino licked the rest of the tomato juice from his fingers and stood, grabbing a blanket from the hall closet and draping it over Feliciano, leaving Ludwig uncovered.

"Forget this, I'm not waiting up any longer for that pussy to come out," he announced with a yawn, his back to Antonio. "I'm going to bed. I can show you to your room, if you want."

"Only if you come with me. I'd like to taste that nice ass of yours."

Antonio's face twisted into a smirk as he stood, not even glancing to the sleeping couple. He only had eyes for the person Antonio seemed to be so interested in. Lovino paused at the entrance of the hallway, glancing back over his shoulder. Even the air around the Spaniard seemed different as the glow of the television and the soft, warm lamplight no longer caressed his features, but rather, brought forth shadows from every crevice.

"Get the fuck out of here," Lovino murmured, more in surprise than issued as a command.

Spain walked closer, pushing a chair out of his way. When close enough, he grabbed the brunet by the arm and yanked him closer. His grin was malicious, his eyes a darker, harder shade of jade, and his lips moved just centimeters from Lovino's face, soft and dark. "I don't think so. We're living together now, and don't you forget it." Then suddenly he was gone, leaving the body to Antonio once again. He gasped and let go of Lovino's arm. "I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention, and I guess he just got out! He didn't hurt you did he?" He checked the arm, to make sure there were no bruises forming.

Lovino wrenched his arm away, wincing a little at the look on Antonio's face. "Startled the shit out of me," he said, and as he spoke, his tone acquired an air of feisty determination, "but it's not like it hurt or anything. And I know what you're thinking, but I'm not going to pussy out just because some other... thing comes out for two seconds and grabs my arm, so relax." He quickly moved along the wall until he was out of Antonio's reach and walked down the hall. "Come on; let me show you where your bedroom is."

The room was a bit small compared to what Antonio was used to, but it was nice enough. It was obvious the last person in there left in a hurry, but he could quickly tidy it up in the morning. Lovino started to leave, but Antonio stopped him. "Um, I just wanted to say thank you. For everything." He smiled a little sheepishly, glancing at the olive-toned arm once more. "Goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight, crazy bastard." He paused before leaving the room and turned back. "A couple of things, first. You're making breakfast and dinner daily, and I wake up at nine; I want that shit as hot as it needs to be. And if that fucktard inside of you can't keep himself in this room through the night, you're gonna be missing an eye by morning. Sleep tight."

With that, the door closed and Antonio was left alone. Well, not exactly, he was never truly alone. But he hadn't really thought about that for ages.

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><p>He made sure that exactly at nine the next morning, breakfast was ready. Ludwig and Feliciano were just blinking awake. Some time during the night they had stretched out on the couch, with the Italian laying on top of his boss.<p>

"Ve~! Smells good! Ludwig, wake up; I smell food!" Feliciano made his way into the kitchen, only slightly disappointed that it wasn't pasta. It was breakfast, though; what could he expect?

Antonio smiled, glad to have someone to talk to. "I hope you like omelets. There's cheese, tomato, and sausage inside, but if you want something different then I can make you one once this one is done."

Feliciano hopped onto one of the tall stools and smiled amicably at Antonio. "I'm sure it'll be wonderful just the way it is," he chirped sweetly, smiling up at Ludwig when the German trudged in, rubbing his eyes. "Oh! Good morning!"

"Holy shit, why are there people in my kitchen?" came an irritable mumble from the kitchen door.

"Good morning, Lovi," Feliciano greeted.

"Whatever," he muttered back, shuffling forward, still half asleep. Lovino's pajama pants, a little too long for his legs, pooled over his feet as he stopped in front of the coffee machine, his hands going about making a pot of their own accord.

Antonio put a plate on the table for his new roommate. "I think this would taste better without coffee. It ruins your taste buds." He got an angry glare, so he quickly backtracked. "But of course you must know best for your taste buds." Now that everyone had some food, he sat down himself and started on his.

Lovino sat himself at the island and took a bite, staying quiet as Feliciano burst into applause at the deliciousness of the omelet. "Ve, Lovi, isn't this sooo yummy, even for an omelet?"

Lovino gave him a dark glare. "Sweet fuck, Feliciano, do you have to be so loud this early in the morning? It's an omelet. Oh, don't give me that look just because I don't get a boner for every good omelet I eat."

"Ah, see, you admitted it was good," Feliciano said triumphantly. Lovino threw a piece of sausage at him.

Ludwig had his head on the table, trying to block out the noise. Of course he was used to getting up at eight every morning, making sure to get his full nine hours sleep, and he should really be used to this, but it didn't make waking up any easier. He forced himself to wake up every morning, so that he would be on time and on schedule, but he had to admit that morning was not his favourite time of day. "Please, Feliciano, be quieter."

The younger Italian quieted instantly and Lovino's scowl shifted to Ludwig. "You think you can boss my brother around because you're a potato-eating macho freak?" he asked giving the German a rude gesture.

"Ve, but he _is_my boss," Feliciano piped up before popping another piece of omelet in his mouth.

"And he is very tired. We should probably leave him alone until he wakes up more." Antonio smiled brightly, enjoying his own omelet. He was glad that Lovino seemed to like it a lot, since he would apparently be cooking for the Italian for a while. Well, until they found out if it was helping his condition at all. He had thought about what happened last night, and didn't notice anything in particular that could have triggered 'Spain'.

"Che. Whatever." Lovino ate the rest of his omelet slowly, not because he was savoring it or anything, just because... it was morning and he was tired.

Doing his best to wake up, Ludwig glanced across the table at Antonio. His voice was deep with sleepiness and thick with a northern German accent, a common occurrence when his tongue wasn't moving as quickly as his mind. "Did anything happen last night?"

Feliciano hopped off the barstool and poured a mug of fresh coffee for the blond as Lovino and Antonio exchanged glances.

Antonio nodded and looked at his plate. "He came out when Lovino was going to bed. I'm not exactly sure what was said, it was like I was really far away or something which was weird, but he grabbed Lovino's arm really hard." He looked over to said brunet, and glanced to his arm. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

Lovino knew he could have spoken up about the light bruise but instead, he nonchalantly rolled his sleeves down over his wrists and smirked. "As if. That asshole didn't even come out until after macho potato over there fell asleep."

Ignoring the now-commonplace insult, Ludwig nodded at Antonio. "It makes sense actually. I don't think 'Spain' wants me to meet him, because he knows I am trying to make him go away." It would explain why he had never met him yet. But if he had come out the first night there, it held promise that this could actually work.

Feliciano set the mug down in front of Ludwig and took his empty plate to the sink before he excused himself to use the restroom before wandering off. Once he was gone, Lovino leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Hold the fuck up, potato bastard. Since when did my brother become your bitch?"

"I am his boss, as I keep telling you. And I do things for him as well. It is what is called being courteous," Ludwig snapped, massaging his forehead. He grabbed for the mug and took a big gulp, hoping it would help wake him up.

"Bastard," Lovino mumbled, taking a big bite of the omelet. "I'm as courteous as they fucking _come_. I'm just worried about what kinda 'nice' shit you're doing for him. Or to him."

The German slammed his hand on the table and stood up. "What do you mean by that?"

Antonio tried to stop the coming fight by taking away empty dishes and asking if anyone wanted something to drink. If he wasn't actually in the fight, then 'Spain' probably wouldn't come out, but he didn't really wanna take the chance.

Lovino scowled up at the German, moving himself back a little. Definitely not out of fear, no freaking way, but that German was _huge_, so...

"What the fuck do you think I mean?" he hissed. "Why is a fucking psychiatrist playing dumb?" He would have continued, long and colorful insults on his tongue, but quick, pattering footsteps trailed into the kitchen.

"Ludwig? Lovi? What wrong? I heard shouting..."

They both looked over at the small Italian, not wanting him to see them fight. Ludwig almost gave the impression of a more relaxed expression and pulled Feliciano closer to him. "It is fine, your brother was just being his normal aggressive self."

Lovino hollered at them both in a fashion that was completely off of the earlier topic, and thus the morning commenced. When the dishes were finished and the kitchen was clean, Ludwig and Feliciano made to leave.

"Now, you're sure that this is what you want?" the German asked, tying a scarf around Feliciano's neck.

Antonio nodded and gave a smile. "Yes, anything to get this over with. I'll probably be picking up my things and moving them in some time today." He turned to Lovino and tilted his head a little. "Is there a contract you want me to sign? I think if I stay here for two months, that would probably be enough."

"It's a six month contract," Lovino answered, allowing Feliciano to pull him into a hug, "so you can take it or leave it. _Ciao_, Feli," he muttered, kissing both of his brother's cheeks and glaring at Ludwig before whispering something in Feliciano's ear. The younger brother blushed and shook his head, sneaking shy glances at the German.

Because his secretary was starting to act very strange, Ludwig decided it would be a good idea to get them out of there as soon as possible. "If 'Spain' comes out again, make sure to tell me what happens. Good luck." Then he steered Feliciano out of the house.

Antonio turned to his new roommate. "Alright, six months, then. I really hope this will work, or else it will all be for nothing." He gave a sigh and went back to the kitchen. "Could you bring the contract then?"

The day passed rather quickly. Antonio signed the six month contract and returned to his condo to pack his clothes and a few essentials. When he had returned in the early afternoon, Lovino was napping deeply on the sofa.

When he woke up, he jostled Antonio out of his own siesta to make a late lunch.

And they talked. Lovino learned that Antonio loved his job with a deep fervor. He loved kids, loved being able to see them improve their motor skills and physical abilities over months of effort, loved their cute expressions as they did their best to improve themselves, when they succeeded. And Antonio learned that Lovino was a part time home decorator thanks to a good eye for trends and an occasional food critic by passion; he could tell good food the second it hit his tongue, and the same could be said for the bad, and in the culinary community, he was revered and feared like a fucking _god_for his opinions. But he only worked upon request, couldn't be bothered otherwise, and no new restaurants had popped up in a sixty mile radius that warranted his interest enough to investigate himself, so he hadn't had any jobs lately.

"I paint, too, but not like Feliciano," he said when the evening sun warmed the room with orange. A glass of tomato juice lifted to his lips. "That kid... fucking amazing. Paints like he was born with a brush in his right hand. I do it to _relieve frustration_or some shit."

Antonio was very interested to learn that about him, since Lovino seemed far from the artistic type. He glanced at the time and decided he should start making supper soon. Hopefully his roommate would like homemade pizza, since he picked up the ingredients when he had gone out for his things. "Could I see a few paintings? I love seeing work by unknown artists, since I myself can't paint to save my life."

"I told you it's shit," he mumbled, taking another sip of the juice. "But if you insist, they're at the back of your closet. Don't go out of your way though, bastard. N-now what's for dinner?"

"I was going to make a pizza, if that's alright. I got some very ripe tomatoes that would be just perfect for the sauce." Though now that he knew Lovino was a food critic, he was a little worried what he would say. Even if he seemed to enjoy the breakfast and lunch.

Lovino smirked. "You look nervous. Don't be. It's nearly impossible to do wrong with fresh tomatoes, and fuck if my tomatoes aren't as fresh as fresh can be."

He stood up to start making the dough. "Um, I should just warn you that you shouldn't say anything like that when 'Spain' is out. To him that would sound... suggestive, and I don't wanna be smacked. I mean not that _I_think it's suggestive! I just know that he would!" He woke up way too many times with bruises from what his other personality would do.

Lovino turned a little red and jumped up, shuffling through the cupboard aimlessly, just for something to do. "F-fuck, that bastard is twisted. There's nothing s... _suggestive_about ripe tomatoes."

Antonio disagreed, but didn't say anything. There was definitely something suggestive about ripe tomatoes, when their colour looks just like a blush, when they are so tender that their thin skin dimples at the slightest touch, when you squeeze them so hard that they pop and their juices flow over your hand. Damn, he was just as perverted as 'Spain' and he knew it. The only difference was that he would never say it out loud.

The Italian glanced to the side and scowled. "Why the fuck are you blushing, you damned tomato bastard?"

"It's hot in here." After that, Antonio made sure that his cheeks got covered in flour so that it was not obvious if he was blushing or not.

He enjoyed making the pizza crust; it was his second favourite part. His favourite part was of course the sauce. But with the dough, he felt like he was a part of the pizza, like he was really making it. The store bought pizza crusts were just never the same.

Lovino made himself comfortable leaning against the island counter and watched Antonio work the dough thoroughly with long, deft and floury fingers. It was almost hypnotic, the way he would knead and flatten and knead and roll. The dough and flour made pale splotches up to his wrists, an occasional streak up his strong forearms and near his elbows.

And then Lovino caught himself staring and looked away with a blush. "You work that dough like a fucking pro. Ever think about going into the pizza business? I'm talking the real stuff, none of this mass-marketed fast food franchise crap."

The Spaniard looked at him and smiled, wiping away some hair from his face with his arm. "Not really. I like working with the kids too much. This is a nice hobby, but I would rather keep to cooking for myself, and maybe one day a significant other." It had been his dream for a long time to make dinner for himself and his boyfriend. But then he caught his mistake. "Oh, and now for you too of course."

"Yeah yeah, great recovery, Casanova. Just keep making that damn pizza."

He watched Antonio finish the dough with a tender, loving passion and poured himself another glass of tomato juice. "... So you're not dating?" he asked conversationally.

"I haven't for over a year. My last relationship... didn't turn out well. 'Spain' called him... Well I don't really want to say what he called him." He never liked repeating what the personality said, since it was usually so vulgar. He would much rather just not say, since Lovino was perfectly capable of coming up with his own words that would work just as well.

The Italian cringed. "Fuck. It must be awful to have that bitch Spain ruin your relationships. You don't even try anymore, do you?"

The crust was done, so he started on the sauce. "No, because I don't want him to hurt anyone, physically or emotionally. But I hope that I will get him out for good with this, or at least be able to suppress him." He didn't really mind talking about his problems, since he was so used to it with the doctors, but it was a little different talking to Lovino about it.

The Vargas traced the rim of his glass with a finger. "Gotta be awkward to tell people that you've got some kinda crazy other half, huh? How do you do that?"

"Well, I don't tell everyone. Just people who I see regularly, who might meet him, or doctors. Some of them don't believe me when I say I have multiple personality disorder though." There were people that to this day didn't believe him. It was rather unfortunate, but it was better to tell them and have them not meet 'Spain', then to not tell them and they meet him anyway.

"Has that dickwad ever got you in real trouble? Like, down to the police station kinda trouble?" He pushed off of the counter and reached around Antonio, dragging his finger through the sauce in the bowl nestled under the Spaniard's arm, popping it in his mouth. "Just want to be prepared in case I need to bail you out or some shit."

He laughed, because the thought of Lovino coming to the police station to pick him up was just hilarious. "Once I was put in a holding cell for a day because he spit on an officer. Luckily there were only me and a few kids who got caught spray painting something in the holding cell, so it wasn't too bad." He had actually helped one kid who had hurt his shoulder, so it was a good night.

"Well, that's good to know. He hasn't done anything really bad, has he? Do I need a rape whistle or something?"

That made Antonio think. It had been a while since he had slept with anyone... "No, I'm sure he wouldn't try to rape you. Maybe like kiss you and try to take your clothes off. Basically the worst he does is when he gets into fights." It was good in high school when the older kids would try to tackle him, but the consequences were always harsh.

"Shit, I was just kidding," he muttered, squinting at the taller man with scrutiny. "Hey. That whole stream of conscious thing the potato bastard mentioned yesterday... that means that he's probably listening right now, right?"

He nodded, but tried to concentrate on the sauce. "Yes, he's always listening. And I can usually listen when he's taking over, except some times it's almost like he blocks me or something. I wish I could do that to him."

"Fuck. Don't go all pessimistic on me, bastard. Your face is all frowny and shit. Come on. You're here to conquer that dickhole, right? You've got six months to beat him into submission. Cheer the fuck up."

"Well, it isn't really that easy. I wish it was but it probably won't be. This is just so I can try and find out what makes him come out, if anything, so that maybe I can avoid that so he won't come out. But I doubt I will ever be truly rid of him." He wasn't being pessimistic, he was being realistic. He was probably going to die with 'Spain'.

"Che. Whatever. Maybe you haven't gotten rid of that bitch because you don't think you're able to." He pushed himself away from the counter and went to the spice cupboard, rolling the oregano over to Antonio. "The stuff you used is too old. Use that instead. I'm gonna go take a shower."

When the pizza was done, Lovino was just coming down from his shower. Antonio was amazed by how long he took, and wondered how the water hadn't run cold after a while. Who could possibly shower that long? But supper was ready, so he got out plates and cut up the pizza. "I hope you like it. Watch, it's probably still hot."

The Italian rubbed the back of his head with the fluffy white towel around his neck with his left hand, using his right to grab a slice, smiling at the long string of fresh melted cheese that connected it to the rest of the pizza. "Look at that fucker stretch," he said, amused. He nibbled at the cheese until it disconnected from the rest of the pie and balanced the piece out in his hand, blowing gently. "Smells good," he mumbled, taking a bite.

Antonio waited to see if he would like it, and was happy when he gave a satisfied nod. After that, he felt alright to eat his own. "So tomorrow I have to go to work, so I can make you a boxed lunch if you want. You may have to put it in the microwave to heat it up though, unless you want like a sandwich."

"Nah, don't need it," Lovino said, taking another bite and closing his eyes. "Damn, that's good. No, I've got lunch plans tomorrow with a client. Feel free to take anything from the kitchen, but you've got grocery duty. Oh." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "And don't even think about wasting my food budget on grocery store tomatoes. I paid extra for this apartment just for the biggest fucking balcony in this neighborhood so I could grow my own, and they're the best damn tomatoes in this side of the country. I won't take any others."

Eyes growing wide, Antonio felt an urge to go out and look. But he decided that he could wait till after dinner. "I'll have to go look at that. When I was a kid, my mom would always grow tomatoes." Some of his best memories were with his mother in the back, hands covered in dirt, working with her to help the tomatoes grow nice and big.

Lovino finished the first piece and went on to the second, his expression thoughtful. "And you?"

"I helped her. It was nice, with just she and I together like that." Of course it gave his father more reason to think he was gay and beat him. But, to this day, he still loved tomatoes.

"You any good at it?" Lovino asked, taking a big bite and resting his head on his fist with a lazy look in his eye.

He shrugged, still smiling like an idiot. "It's been a while. I went into foster care when I was fifteen." He had come to school with too many bruises, and finally someone had noticed. Of course, a lot of those bruises were also from the fights 'Spain' got into.

Lovino grunted, and when he finished the piece of pizza he cleaned his fingers with his tongue. "Well. As long as you don't do anything stupid, you can maybe... water or prune one or two of the plants... if you want," he said, his voice trailing off into a mumble as he finished, his eyes focused on the half-eaten pizza. Why he was embarrassed, he didn't know, but his ears were burning and his heart was pounding. "Or not. Fuck."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Antonio was happy, because he would have a chance to once again be able to grow tomatoes, instead of just cooking with them.

"Sure, whatever. Don't drown them or I'll have to... to... put you on extra cooking duty or something." He regarded Antonio across the table and tsked. "You'd probably enjoy that, though, crazy bastard."

The conversation after that remained fairly light, neither of them talking much about 'Spain' besides Lovino's random mutterings of "crazy bastard", and they didn't speak of Antonio's childhood again. The Italian told stories of when he and Feliciano were children, however, and it seemed the younger had always been as absentminded as he was now.

"Feli's always been perfect," Lovino said, pulling a few tomatoes from the refrigerator, slicing them up quickly and neatly at the kitchen island counter top. "Yeah, he's got the shortest attention span of anyone I know, but damn, he's a piece of work. He can't keep a job longer than a week out of boredom, but he'll spend hours perfecting pasta sauce recipes, and he can pick up a little nub of chalk and create a masterpiece on a sidewalk. If that kid could focus, he'd go places. Makes me wonder how the fuck he's still playing secretary for that macho potato even after seven months."

Antonio shrugged and took a slice of tomato for himself. "Well, he's in love. It changes things." Of course he had no proof, but he had seen the looks those two shared with each other.

Lovino's smile was bitter. "Changes things? Nah, Feliciano 'falls in love' as often as he changes his damn pants. He's been screwed over just as often. It's only a matter of time before it happens again, and he comes crying to me about losing the meaning of life, and finds it in some other macho guy or pretty girl."

Not wanting to start a fight after things had been going so well, Antonio took their plates to the sink and filled it with water. "Well, hopefully this will be different. You never know right?" He had always been a hopeless romantic, after all. He gave a yawn, remembering how early he had woken up that morning, and how long it had taken him to get to sleep the night before.

Lovino stood, stretching his muscles. He tossed the towel about his neck in the laundry closet in the hall. "I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late; I'm gonna need breakfast before you leave."

He nodded and finished up the dishes. "I'll probably be going to bed soon as well." He knew that tomorrow he had an appointment with Kyla, which was always a delight. She was just so happy all the time, it was a shame she had fallen down the stairs. However, he also had an appointment with Toby, and he never listened, and never did his stretches when he was at home. It was no wonder he broke his arm in a fight.

Romano traipsed to his room and fell into an easy sleep, snuggled deep into the confines of his warm bed, surrounded by pillows and at least three blankets. Why he woke up just three hours later he didn't know, but it annoyed him half to death that he couldn't fall back into blissful dreamland. He tossed and turned for half an hour before finally standing with a groan. He dragged himself out of bed, took a piss and wandered the sizable apartment on sleepy feet, pouring himself a glass of water and finding himself after a bit near the French doors that opened to the balcony.

He stepped out into the chilled night, rubbing his arms and wandering to the ledge. He leaned against it, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. When tomato season began, the balcony would emanate the scent of warm, rich soil and the swollen fruit, but now, it didn't smell at all.

There was a click as the door to the balcony was shut suddenly. "I can see why he likes you." Spain said, his voice loud in the night. His acid-green eyes watched the brunet whirl around in surprise. "What, weren't expecting me? Get used to it, bitch. I live here now, for six whole months." Oh, what he could accomplish in six glorious months.

Lovino laid a hand over his startled heart, scowling furiously. "The fuck? Do you get your sick pleasure off creeping up behind people when they least expect it? I nearly pissed myself, you crazy fuck."

"I'm not the crazy one. That's your pall Toni," he said with a laugh. Spain went over to the plants, ripping off one leaf. "So you give him a few tomato plants, isn't that sweet. Just fucking great, something else for the pussy to coddle. You two will make a perfect fucking couple, won't you." His voice practically dripped with sarcasm, tearing the leaf in two before throwing it over the railing.

Lovino edged away a little but sneered, a threatened animal brandishing inadequate claws. "At least he isn't some kind of tomato bully. Fucking bastard. No way, don't you dare come near me; this balcony isn't big enough for you to be acting like a fucking creeper."

"But it's big enough for you to be fucking rude, huh?" Spain kept coming closer. He never was one for personal space. When the Italian was pressed against the railings, he got right in his face, and ran a hand across his cheek. "You know, he has been wanting to do this all day… but he's too much of a fucking pansy to actually do it. And I think I might just keep this to myself, so he doesn't remember how it feels."

Lovino shivered, in his mind vehemently blaming the early morning spring breeze. "I'd say 'bite me' but you m-might take that seriously, you shitfaced..." He went quiet very quickly at the look in 'Spain's' eye. "So what's the deal? Why're you giving Antonio such a mindfuck?"

The laugh was much lower than Antonio's would have been, much less carefree. "I'm not doing anything that he truly doesn't want. He may not like my methods, but he would be _nothing_without me. Nice guys finish last, after all, so I just make it so that we finish first." That was how he got to be where he was today; without his help he would probably be volunteering full time at a homeless shelter and practically living there himself. "I am everything he wants to be. What he wants, I want. For example, I want to rip your clothes off right now and force your pretty mouth to take my dick. Today he told you I might try to kiss you, because he knew deep down that that's what he wanted to do." He was still pressed up against Lovino, and he ran his hand along his slender back.

Lovino pushed him back, folding his arms around himself. "Bullshit. D-don't fucking try to come on to me just because you haven't gotten any in a year. Fuck. It's your fucking fault, anyway."

"You really think I would wait a year to fuck someone? Like I said, everything he wants, I want. He wanted to fuck, so I would take over when he wasn't paying attention, block him out, and find some nice ass. He wouldn't have been able to last a full year otherwise." He went forward again, but Lovino tried to push him away just like before, so he grabbed onto his wrists to stop him. "I'm stronger, don't you fucking forget it."

Okay, so maybe he was a little scared, his fight or flight instincts kicking in, but since flight wasn't an option (or rather it was, but he didn't want to _die)_he knew he would have to settle for a fight. "If you don't let me go, swear to almighty God I will break your balls and make sure you never fuck again."

Spain smirked, tightening his grip. "I'd like to see you try. Remember, my body is his as well. Are you sure you don't want him to be able to fuck?" God this was fun. It had been so long since he had met someone so feisty. No wonder Antonio liked him so much.

Lovino's face burned scarlet at that. "T-the fuck? Why should I care if that bastard can f-fucking... it's none of my business if h-he... just go to hell, you crazy bastard!"

"I'll meet you there, where we can be together without that fucking pussy in the way." He went in to steal a kiss, but never got the chance.

Craning his head back, Lovino brought it forward with a violent momentum and rammed his forehead into the Spaniard's skull. Taking advantage of the blatant shock and pain registering on 'Spain's' face, Lovino wrenched free of his grasp and ran into the house, but not before shouting over his shoulder, "You're the pussy, you sick fuck!"

As soon as he recovered from the shock, Spain was running after him into the house. By the time he got to Lovino's door, it was closed firmly and locked. He banged against it, almost splintering the wood. "You fucker! You just ran away like the fucking coward that you are! Come out here and take it like a man!" But then he stopped, his hand sliding down the door. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night." Then he left, a dark smile on his face, an even darker plot roiling about in his mind.

Lovino burrowed under the covers, shivering like a maniac. He clasped his hands in front of him, not daring to peek at the door as the apartment went quiet. "God, Jesus, Mary and all the Saints, I know I'm a terrible Catholic, but please please _please,_ don't let me get raped by that crazy motherfucker. Amen." He crossed himself and fought with his wildly beating heart to go back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Antonio was humming as he made breakfast the next morning. He had to leave in twenty minutes, so he hoped Lovino would wake up soon so that he didn't have to eat cold eggs. He had such a good sleep last night, so he was going to be really good with the kids today.

The Italian in question trudged sleepily into the kitchen, practically falling into the refrigerator in his quest for juice. "... where the hell is my juice?"

The Spaniard held up a glass that he had already poured. "Good morning! You look really tired, but you even went to bed before me. I made you eggs, and here is some toast. Sorry I don't have enough time for something more fancy." The only way he added tomatoes this morning was a few slices on the side of the plate, but neither of them cared at the moment.

"Whatever," Lovino mumbled, half laying on the counter as he began to consume his breakfast mechanically. Glancing up mid-bite he noticed an odd expression on Antonio's face. "... The fuck are you staring at?"

He went closer and sat down at the chair beside Lovino. "Your wrist… it's bruised. Are you alright? What happened?" Then he saw that both wrists were bruised, and he gasped. No, it couldn't be, he didn't remember anything! He had gone to sleep last night and that had been it! "It... was it him?"

"Fuck," Lovino mumbled around a mouthful of egg. He swallowed and waved Antonio. "Nah, I'd never let that bitch accost me. I woke up last night and..." He lifted his glass as his mind raced for an excuse. "... and I went outside to check on the hibernating tomatoes. One of the pots fell on my wrist, and thanks to my bitch luck, when I was lifting it off, another on fell on my other wrist. I was like, 'The fuck?' But it's no big deal."

Of course it wasn't believable at all. Antonio had gone out on the deck this morning, and all the plants just seemed fine. But he _wanted_ to believe it. He didn't want 'Spain' to be able to take over whenever he was sleeping and have him not remember any of it, so he found himself nodding dumbly. "You should, ah, be more careful then. Those pots are heavy."

"Well, I know that _now,_" Lovino said dryly, glancing at the clock. "Shouldn't you be at work soon?"

"Oh, right. I'll probably be home around five. Call me if there's a problem… here's my card. Call the office, because I never carry my cell." He went to grab his jacket and slipped into his shoes, waving goodbye.

The minute he was out the door, Lovino took another bite of omelet and texted him a quick message.

_Won't be home till late tonight, dipshit. Have dinner ready._

He wanted to try to avoid Antonio's crazy live-in other half, so he thanked his lucky stars that his client lived three towns over and liked to talk. A lot.

Antonio didn't look at his phone until he got to work, but when he did, he smiled. He never really texted much, but he could figure out how, he supposed.

_That's too bad, I enjoy company when I eat. How late will you be?_

Maybe he could keep his cell phone on vibrate and keep it in his pocket today. Not that he would text when with a patient, but in between patients and at his lunch break couldn't hurt, right?

At that point Lovino was zipping down a rural stretch of road on his Vespa toward his client's modern-style country home. Once he was deep in the woods before the large, trendy building he noticed the text and the time it was sent.

_Took you long enough. I don't know when; this guy lives in the middle of no where and doesn't know when to stop talking, so it may be pretty late. Don't wait up or anything._

They went on for most of the day, texting back whenever they got the chance. Lovino told him all about his client's balding head and how the man's wife was totally just in it for the money and probably cheating on him. By the time Antonio got home, Lovino was saying that he was still going to be a while, so he made a dinner that was still good heated up.

When he was getting ready for bed, he put a note on the table by the door where Lovino was sure to see it. '_Food on the counter, just heat it up. I hope you like it. I'll see you in the morning!_'

True to his word, Lovino didn't make it home until just before midnight, tossing his helmet onto the couch before stalking into the kitchen. He scanned over the note and smiled very briefly at the smiley face at the very bottom. "Stupid tomato bastard," he murmured to himself, setting the note down and unwrapping the dish.

The desk light flicked on, revealing Spain sitting in the chair, just looking at him. "You thought you could avoid me, did you?"

The fork he'd lifted to his lips promptly fell out of his hand and he swore furiously, turning wide eyes to the creepfest in Antonio's body. "What the great blue _fuck,_ Spain?" he cursed, wiping the runny tomato sauce from his chin.

"Mm, I like it when you say my name." He stood up and moved closer, planning exactly how to take his revenge. "What I don't like, however, is you lying to Antonio about what happened last night. Who would believe that stupid fucking story? Maybe I should make a mark that can't be explained away..."

"You know," Lovino said, willing his voice not to quiver as he moved away, sliding along the counter to the opposite side, keeping the entire island between them, "I think everything you said about being what Antonio really wants to be is a heaping pile of bullshit."

"He may not like my means, but we both want the same end." After a few seconds of dodging to the sides of the island, just to have Lovino mirror his actions, Spain grew bored. He put his hands on the counter top and jumped onto it. "Run if you want, I always like the chase!" He jumped off the end where the Italian was quickly backing up. Lovino ducked under one of his arms, feeling a little blessed by his natural Italian speed, but _damn_ the bastard who put that rug there. Lovino tripped, grabbing onto the counter for support, and cursing his luck when another pair of hands landed on the counter, just on the outside of his own. Trembling slightly, he glared up at Spain in defiance and thinly veiled fright. "Bullshit," he spat, leaning away from Spain. "I don't believe you for a second. You know why?" He poked the Spaniard harshly in the chest. "Antonio's not a dickfaced asshole that'd sexually harass someone without their consent."

"Of course not; he'd wait for you to agree before he fucked you, but that's just 'cause he's a pussy. He still wants to fuck you. He just doesn't know it yet." And now for his true revenge. Spain gripped Lovino by the chin hard, yanking his head to the side, and bit him on the neck, hard, right where it would be visible to everyone. The Italian struggled, but he just sucked harder, to make it obvious that this was no ordinary bruise, that this would stay.

Lovino cried out, swearing and fuming and blushing and definitely _not _crying as he struggled to push Spain away to no avail. "Stop!" he shouted, trying to hit him, but at their proximity, no force was gathered behind it.

When he was sure the hickey was dark enough, Spain pulled away, wiping his lips. "I can't wait to see what he thinks when he sees I claimed you first." Then he was walking away, his deed done for the night.

Left suddenly without support, Lovino grabbed on to the counter with an arm that felt about as strong as a lump of jelly, one hand cupping his bruised neck.

He tried his best not to think that technically, it was Antonio's lips that had covered his skin and marked him for the entire world to see.

* * *

><p>Luckily, he had more time to make breakfast this morning, Antonio thought as he turned the bacon. This was going to be a good day. He heard Lovino thudding down the stairs, and smiled without turning around. "I don't have any appointments till a bit later, so I can stay here for a while longer. I hope you like breakfast burritos."<p>

Lovino started a little at the loud, cheerful voice and he stared through sleep-ridden eyes. His hand automatically flew to the gold scarf around his neck. "Fine. Burritos. Fantastic." He shuffled over to the table, unable to meet Antonio's eyes. "Hope you didn't fuck them up."

"Of course not! There's bacon, scrambled eggs, salsa, tomatoes, sausage, and of course the wraps. If you want some mayo, I can get the jar." He turned around, and laughed. "I never pictured you wearing a scarf. But the colour suits you. But you're wearing it all wrong, you're not supposed to wrap it that much around your neck. Let me fix it for you." He went to grab the scarf, but Lovino jerked back.

"D-don't fucking touch it! It's fashionable this way!" He flinched when Antonio grabbed it anyway, laughing as if it was all some sort of game.

He tried his best unraveling it, but Lovino was stubborn. "Come on! _Por favor_, it will look better this way!" He didn't get it unraveled, but it pulled down, enough for him to see the large, dark hickey on his neck. Antonio gasped and dropped the scarf. This was even worse than yesterday!

Lovino cursed under his breath. "Whatever you're thinking, it's stupid and probably wrong," he insisted. The memory of Spain calling him out about lying to Antonio boiled his blood and in that anger he looked deeply into Antonio's eyes, searching for that sadistic motherfucker.

"No, no! He did that! I know enough to recognize his handy work when I see it. And yesterday, your wrists, he did that too didn't he? 'Spain' is taking over when I don't even know it!" He gripped his hair, looking away. Why had he done that, to Lovino of all people? He hadn't done anything else... had he? "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you any more, did he?"

Alarmed at the whiteness of Antonio's knuckles, Lovino slid off of the barstool and grabbed his wrists. "Antonio. Chill the fuck out." His brows scrunched up in concern as he searched through his mind for something to do to comfort the panicked Spaniard. The only memories he had of comforting someone were of Feliciano, and mostly that was just allowing his little brother to hug him. So with that limited knowledge, he forcefully wiggled his fingers through Antonio's, prying them from his hair, and awkwardly draped them around his shoulders. "Calm down. I can explain."

Big green eyes looked at him, hoping for something to make it better. But it wasn't better. The whole reason he was here was to find out the trigger for 'Spain', but how could he do that if he didn't even know when the personality took over? In the past, he would almost always know what he did, so he could deal with it when he came back, but he couldn't do that if he didn't remember it happening.

Lovino huffed, feeling a little odd in such a close position with the same body that had assaulted him just the night before. 'Spain' scared him because he was powerful and ruthless and he didn't take no for an answer. But he could feel no malice in _Antonio._ "It wasn't that crazy fuck." He looked straight through Antonio's eyes. "Last night I ran into this guy. Sort of an ex. He was drunk, I let my guard down, and when he made a move I thought, 'What the hell,' and let him think he'd get something. But in the end," he said with a bit of a sneer, hoping that 'Spain' was listening (and that Antonio's defenses were up enough to keep the personality at bay), "I remembered that he was just a pussy motherfucker, and I can do so much better. So he had his fun with my neck. I covered it up because, you know, fuck if I want to let anyone else see what I let some dumbass shit do to me."

Antonio's breathing evened out, and he found himself nodding. "Oh. Alright." He didn't understand why he still didn't feel much better, the thought of some random guy doing that with Lovino... but he forced himself not to think of 'Spain'. It wasn't him, Lovino wouldn't lie to him. He hoped.

Lovino watched him for a moment and then, realizing that Antonio had bought it, his lips quirked up into a sort of crooked grin. "Damn, if I'd known you'd flip out over every bruise on my body, I'd have bought some kinda makeup or something to cover it up. People bruise. It's life. I've got some pansy-ass fucking sensitive skin, anyway, thanks to my shitty genetics, so it happens a lot. Don't flip shit every time I get one, okay?" He slipped out from under Antonio's arms.

"Yeah, alright. It's just that usually when people who are close to me bruise, it's because of him. Hey, maybe I'm getting better if he hasn't come out." But the words were hollow, even then. Antonio forced a smile, and then went back to the bacon, glad it hadn't burnt.

"Don't let him get you all paranoid, damn tomato bastard," Lovino mumbled, re-situating the thin scarf. He watched Antonio for a long, thoughtful minute and when he sat down with the food, Lovino spoke. "You're here to be stressed all the time, right?"

He nodded, still facing the stove. Antonio took the bacon off and got everything else ready. "Yeah, that's what it's supposed to be. But I'm actually not as stressed as I thought I would be." With their first meeting, he thought it would be much worse than this.

"Yeah, I noticed." He took a piece of bacon and chewed on it for a moment. "I'll be damned if I know why, though. I can piss the pants off of _Feli_. You've got plenty of tolerance- I think that potato bastard had you all wrong. What was the point of it again?"

With everything ready, Antonio sat down at the table. "Well, 'Spain' usually comes out in stressful situations, like in a fight or sometimes even a test. So if I'm always stressed, then maybe I could figure out why he takes over."

"Well that's a stupid idea," he snorted, licking his lips. "Why don't you just do something to kick that fucker out? No, you've already done that... Why don't you just overpower him? That's what he does to you."

Antonio started making his burrito, and gave a small chuckle. "It's not really that easy. I would have to be concentrating really hard all the time, and that would be pretty much impossible."

"But he can do it," Lovino pointed out, picking a tomato from the basket on the counter and taking a big bite. "And he's just a big bully, waiting to beat you when you're at your weakest, right? Like a fucking super-villain. Super-villains are pussies." He took another bite, wiping up the juice that ran down his chin and licked it from the back of his hand and held up his hand, lazily forming a half-fist so that only two fingers remained vertical. "So let's connect the dots. If he's the villain and he's doing his best to fuck you over, that makes you one of two things. A superhero, or a helpless civilian. So which is it that you want to be?"

This conversation was going quickly downhill. It happened with a lot of people when they didn't understand. "This isn't a comic book. This is real life, there are no villains and there are no heroes, there's just people. He can keep me out when he takes over, because he only takes over for an hour or two at a time." And the fact that 'Spain' was stronger than him, but Antonio really didn't want to open that can of worms.

"And that's your fucking problem," Lovino said with a frown. "You've given up to him. That's why he takes over you when you're weak. That's why he..." He cleared his throat, glancing to the left. His fingers slid gently over the pale bruises on his wrist. "A-anyway, fuck, it was just a metaphor. You've obviously chosen to be the victim when you could be playing on offense and beating him."

Antonio looked up, his eyes boring into Lovino's. "Well, he hasn't been out for two days, right? So maybe I _am _beating him." It would be so nice if that could be true.

Lovino's lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. Pussyfoot around it like you can't keep control of yourself." He stood angrily, his seat scraping back on the tile floor. "Thanks for the fucking food. It wasn't shit. Hurray for you."

Well, this wasn't as good a morning as he had first thought. Antonio finished his food, then cleaned up the plates. He still had about half an hour before he had to leave, but he figured that he could always find some paperwork at the office to do in the mean time. His secretary would surely be happy.

Unfortunately for Lovino, he had no engagements that particular day. He holed himself up in his bedroom, yanking a blank canvas out from under his bed and let a few expensive paints flow from their jars. He dipped his fingers in the red, streaking them across the page in frustration, in anger. When the bare flesh of his fingertips brushed dry across the canvas, he rolled them, his knuckles oddly indenting the canvas at off-circle intervals. He stroked the page with far less anger, mellowed pity, until even the red on his hands had dried. Without cleaning them, he wet them again with green, mixed so lightly with black liqueur. "Stupid fuck," he murmured, swirling the green into the canvas idly. He frowned. Contemporary shit wasn't his thing, and he found it a sad excuse for "art" and so he knew that it was an awful waste of perfectly good canvas. But the green was so pretty, the green of olives fresh from the groves far across the ocean. It was the green of home, the green of a gentle man's eyes. "Stupid fuck."

* * *

><p>It had been a long day. Mainly because Antonio stayed in the office for longer than he normally would. Lovino was probably still mad at him, after all. And it was a stupid reason, too. Did he really think that he hadn't tried everything that he could think of to get rid of 'Spain'? Did he really think that he knew more about this problem by being with him for just a few days? Psychologists couldn't fix him, and they had years of schooling about these things.<p>

But he didn't blame the Italian for thinking that the solution was so simple. After all, he wasn't the first to think that he could get rid of this by sheer will power. His own sister thought so, after all.

Finally, he had to leave for home. He had spent ten whole hours in the office, and he was the only one left now. So he locked up and got into his car. Hopefully Lovino wouldn't still be angry at him.

No feisty Italian greeted him at the door, which was worrisome. But not too. Upon further investigation, the Vargas was still in his room, sprawled out on the floor, fast asleep. One arm was draped over his stomach, colorful fingers streaking paint over a bit of bared flesh as his white undershirt rode up past his belly button. One fine line of green dribble had rolled down his left thigh to his knee and dried just under his calf. An enormous canvas was filled completely with deep, dark colors in overlapping patterns and designs, leaving no white for air. The floor around the canvas was puddled and dotted with different colors like a rainfall of paint drops. Lovino stirred at the sound of the door opening but did not wake, muttering something in his sleep before relaxing.

Antonio laughed quietly. He looked so cute sleeping like that. His eyes fell on the painting, and his smile grew. He had looked at a few of the other pictures that were in his room, and thought they were pretty good, but they were missing emotion. This one was obviously filled with it. Careful to not step into any of the paint, the Spaniard picked it up, and left the room.

It only took him five minutes to find the perfect place for it. In the hallway, leading to the living room. Luckily there was a nail on the table that he could use, because he had no clue where he would find one in this house. The painting looked perfect there.

Lovino was wrenched from a peaceful slumber by a loud yelp from the hallway. He scrambled up, dazed and distorted, and ran out into the hall. "Where's the fucking fire?" he sleep-slurred, finding Antonio hunched over, cradling his hand. Lovino grabbed him by the wrist, grimacing at the thin stream of blood dripping from his thumbnail. Mumbling a curse under his breath, he pulled Antonio into the bathroom and pushed him onto the toilet lid, forcing his hand over the sink and pouring rubbing alcohol over the wound. "What did you do, bastard?"

"I hit myself with the hammer... But don't worry, I didn't get any blood on your painting." Antonio had an incredible urge to stick his thumb in his mouth, but Lovino was already treating it. He really shouldn't use a hammer, this was just further proof that he wasn't cut out for manual labour.

"Stupid bastard," Lovino huffed, digging a box of bandages out from beneath the sink. "What the fuck were you doing with my painting and a hammer? Beating it into submission?" He snorted, peeling the wrapping off and sticking it tightly around Antonio's thumb.

He pouted, his bottom lip sticking out extremely far. "I wouldn't do that! I was putting it up on the wall. But the stupid nail kept moving." If only it was as easy as those home makeovers made it seem.

"Why would you want to put that piece of shit on the wall?" he mumbled, sounding cross and feeling confused.

Taking his thumb back when it was all better, Antonio stood up. "Don't say that! I thought it was beautiful. It had a lot of emotion, and I thought people should see it."

Lovino looked at him for a long moment, waiting for a joking smile, and when it didn't come, he quickly turned a deep shade of red. "F-fuck, it's just contemporary shit, not even a real painting," he said, brushing his hair back nervously. It felt too weird to receive a genuine compliment.

The Spaniard looked at him with a partial smile. "Some of the best paintings in the world are contemporary. Besides, if you don't like it, why did you paint it? Speaking of that, we really need to get you cleaned up, that is probably going to stain." He looked at the very colourful Italian, and noticed that he even had some paint on the side of his nose.

Lovino rubbed at the yellow on his nose a bit self-consciously. "It's fine. Not like I'm fucking allergic or anything." He finally looked back at Antonio, his brows scrunched together. "Don't try to hang it up again if you can't handle a hammer. I have enough closet space for it, so it's fine."

"Just because I hit my thumb once with the hammer doesn't mean I'll do it again. But if you're so worried, then why don't you hang it up for me?" His mind grudgingly told him that 'Spain' would have had no problem at all hammering that nail, but Antonio tried to ignore it. After all, there were things that he could do better than his other personality as well. Like being nice.

"Why the fuck would I want to do that? I already told you it was shit." He started pushing Antonio from the bathroom, ignoring the heat that stained his cheeks. "Get to the kitchen like the bitch you are and make me some fucking dinner so I can shower." A surefire way to piss the other off enough not to mention the painting again. And maybe kick it in. Lovino could only hope.

But all Antonio did was pout, and somehow managed to look like a kicked puppy. "If you don't want it in the hallway, then I'll just hang it up in my room. Though it would look _better _in the hallway." He didn't have to make supper this exact moment, after all. And he was sure he wouldn't hit his thumb a second time... probably.

"Fine, damn, whatever, just get out of the fucking bathroom." He slammed the door once he had sufficiently pushed Antonio out, and a second later opened it again. "If you hit yourself again you can bandage it yourself."

The door slammed again, and Antonio was left with only the sound of a heavy spray of shower water in his wake.

When Lovino got out of the shower and down to the kitchen where Antonio was cooking, there were no less than three poorly placed bandages in his fingers. But the taller man just smiled at him. "I'm making pasta, it should be ready in about half an hour." He was proud of himself for finally getting the picture hung over his bed, even if it wasn't as centered as he would have liked it to be.

A skeptical eyebrow rose to the ceiling and a wicked smirk quirked at the corners of his lips. "You're just asking for it now, aren't you, you crazy bastard," he chuckled, coming to stand beside Antonio with his arms folded across his chest. "You know I'm Italian, right? And if this pasta turns out to be shit, any decent meal you will ever make again will be inconsequential to my opinion of your cooking."

"Well, I also made pizza for you, and you didn't have any complaints about _that_." He was fairly confident about anything he could make with tomatoes, because he knew very well what flavours went with them. But he still grabbed a spoon, dipping it into the sauce. "If you're worried, have a taste."

Lovino didn't flinch at the steaming spoon thrust in his face and scowled at Antonio momentarily before leaning forward, blowing on it gently. He closed his eyes and licked at the spoon, his little pink tongue dragging along the shallow wooden dip, lapping up the creamy red sauce. He made a little noise. "Oh... wow." He gave it one more lick. "Fuck me, that's good," he murmured, opening his eyes in a little daze.

He went back to stirring, a large smile on his face. "It's my mother's recipe; of course it's good." Of course, he had added a few things here and there to make it his own, but it hadn't changed much from when he was a kid. Most of his other recipes were from his old French friend, who was now a professional chef.

After a moment Lovino composed himself, rubbing at his red cheeks as though he could wipe the blush off. No more foodgasms in front of people he was trying to insult. "It needs oregano."

"It already _has _oregano," Antonio responded quickly, a warm smile on his face. But he still reached over for the jar of oregano, and took a pinch from it and put it in. "Are you happy? You missed some paint on your ear, by the way." It was a pretty green, and would be a good colour for him if it was a shirt.

"Happy? The fuck does that have to do with the paint on my ear?" he asked tersely, scratching at his lobe to remove the paint.

Antonio rolled his eyes, his smile never seeming to fall from his face. "Nothing. Here, let me get it." He reached up, rubbing the paint away. Lovino's ear quickly turned red, but he was still getting the paint off. In fact, he only stopped when the Italian's shirt shifted, showing the still-visible hickey.

Lovino noticed very quickly when Antonio's hand stilled that he was practically cupping his cheek, and that his face was... awfully close... "W-what?"

He remembered what he was doing and stepped back, going back to the stove. "Sorry, it was nothing. I got the paint off." He knew that Lovino had said that it wasn't 'Spain' that did it, but he still had his suspicions.

Muttering to himself in Italian, Lovino turned away. "Whatever. I'm gonna go watch TV or something. Call me when you're done. And don't screw it up. Pasta is sacred."

"Of course, don't worry; I've made this dozens of times." Antonio smiled and continued cooking.

About half an hour later, he was calling Lovino back into the kitchen. "I hope it is up to your standards." They both sat down, and Antonio smiled over the table to him. "So what did you do today? Did that painting take you the whole day?"

The Italian twirled the pasta around his fork like a pro and shrugged, taking a bite and doing his best not to show the bubbly idiot across the table how bonerific it was. "Mm..." Totally just a thoughtful noise, not one of intense palate pleasure. "... No, I took a nap, too, and trolled a bit online. Productive as shit." He took another bite, looking at Antonio expectantly.

Satisfied that Lovino liked it, Antonio continued eating his own meal. "I had one kid today ask me what a bone was for. Before he broke his arm, he had thought that they were what dogs ate!" Of course, he was only three years old. They were so cute at that age, just starting to wonder about the world, even if they didn't understand it yet.

"It's amazing how the stupidest shit that comes out of kids' mouths is so damn adorable," he replied, twirling more of the pasta. "Not that I think kids are cute or anything."

Antonio looked over to him, putting his head in his hand. "So you don't think you would ever want to have a kid? Meet a nice girl one day, get married, have a kid or two? I would love that, if I could be attracted to a girl." It was kind of unfair that guys couldn't get married in America, but maybe one day he would adopt.

Lovino smirked with no small amount of bitterness. "Yeah, because I'm totally the family type. Fuck no." He stabbed at his pasta. "There's no way I'm gonna bring a kid into this world and have to fucking give it up because whatever bitch I decide to have it with can't take my shit. No way in hell." Circling the dish with his fork, he took a bite. "Besides, even though I'm a fucking _charmer,_ there's no woman alive attractive enough for me to get it up."

It was then that Antonio remembered when Lovino explained the hickey, he had said it was a man. With how much he had been freaking out, it had slipped his mind. "Oh, right, so you're like me? Is your brother gay too?" After all, he and Ludwig always seemed very close.

"He's an idiot," Lovino clarified. "He doesn't know the fucking meaning of the word 'gender.' He can pick up bitches like nobody's business, but he's turned into queen of the fairies for that potato bastard. Little slut."

"Why do you hate your brother so much? I think he is very nice, a little frivolous, but still he would help anyone he could and he's always happy." Antonio liked Feliciano a lot, and didn't understand why Lovino always said things like that about him.

"I don't..." He eyed his bowl with an odd frown, letting his bangs fall to hide his face. "I don't hate him. Who could hate Feli? He's perfect. He's sweet and kind and gentle and badass at everything he does and he's so genuine and modest about it, and even though he's about as smart as a pile of socks, he just has so much love for everybody... fuck." It was hard to say that all he wanted was Feliciano's happiness, even though everyone and their mother did as well. It was just too hard to say. "I don't hate him. How the hell did we get on this topic anyway? You were talking about your work."

So they returned to talking about the kids he had that day, and a few of the other kids as well. There was one really sad case, where a six year old girl lost her leg in a lawnmower accident. But she was getting along well with her prosthetic leg, so he was confident that she would be able to live a fairly normal life. "I just love working with the kids, because they have no malice at all. Kind of like your brother."

Lovino was glad that he'd finished all the food on his plate because he had very suddenly lost his appetite. "Yup. Rainbows and sunshine. Thanks for the food, I'm gonna hit the sack."

"But it's only seven! And you said you already had a nap today." He didn't want to stay up all by himself when he was living with someone else. He would much rather stay up with him and watch TV or something.

"S-shut up! I'm tired, dammit, so... so..," He faltered. "There's nothing else to do, so what's the point of staying up?"

Antonio shrugged and then smiled. "We could play a game. I have a deck of cards, we could play Go Fish! Unless you have another board game or something. It'll be fun!" He did like playing games after all, and playing with Lovino would be even more fun.

The Italian snorted. "Games? What are you, twelve? Of course I don't have any fucking games." But Feliciano did, and the thought put Lovino in a sour mood again. "I'm no fun to play with, anyway. You wouldn't know it just looking at me, but I'm a sore loser."

"I kind of figured you would be. Come on, I want to play something!" It would be way more fun than watching TV or going to bed early. That is what old retired couples did, and they were the farthest thing from that.

"... fine," Lovino finally acquiesced, "but only if you take a shower first. You smell like hospital and baby soap. It's too fucking weird."

So Antonio took a warm shower, being quick about it so that Lovino wouldn't change his mind. In ten minutes he was going back to the living room, a deck of cards in his hand.

Lovino glanced up from the cooking show from his comfortable perch on the loveseat. "We're seriously playing Go Fish?" he asked in amused skepticism, eying the pack of cards in Antonio's dark hand.

"Well we don't have to… we could play some other game. Like War, or even poker if you want. As long as we don't do it for money." He didn't like to gamble, as a rule.

"No no, Go Fish is just fine," Lovino said with a smirk, standing. "But fuck if I'm doing this without liquor." He padded into the kitchen and found a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, returning to the room. "You'd better be okay with wine, because I don't drink anything else."

Antonio smiled and nodded, looking at the fairly expensive bottle of red wine. "That's just fine. It looks like it will taste really good too." He liked wine the best out of all forms of alcohol. It just had something sharp and earthy that the others didn't. Not to mention, a glass of red wine every once in a while was good for your health.

"Well, at least your taste in alcohol isn't shit," Lovino said, pouring a bit in the two glasses and setting all of the glassware on the coffee table, seating himself on the loveseat cross-legged and facing Antonio, a sarcastic smirk covering his mouth. "All right, let's get this party rolling."

Antonio shuffled the deck, but Lovino complained that since it was his own deck, he couldn't be the one to shuffle it, so the Italian took over and dealt the cards.

"Um, got any threes?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino said, taking a delicate sip of the wine in his glass and tossing the card at his roommate. He leaned back against the thick plush arm of the loveseat and made ready for a long, intense game.

About an hour later, Lovino was on his third glass, Antonio on his fourth, and with the bittersweet alcohol flowing through his veins and warming him, even his inhibitions were melting. "Go _fish, _motherfucker," he said, throwing his head back for a victorious cackle.

"Aw that sucks. I thought for sure you had... oh wait this is the card I wanted!" He happily put his pair in his pile, smiling drunkenly. "I guess I'm the Go Fish champ, aren't I? Now I kind of wish we had made this for money or something. Or maybe like chores? I would give you a chance to redeem yourself."

"Bull _shit,_ you damn cheater," Lovino snorted, lazily stretching out a leg to rest his sock feet on Antonio's thighs. "Let's see you win the fucking game before you start making any boasts. Damn, it's hot in here."

He nodded in agreement, and took another drink of the wine. "It's your turn you know. And if you're hot, why don't you just take off your jacket? Oh! I had a fun idea! We should play strip poker! Well, I mean strip Go Fish." That would make it even more fun!

The Italian leaned forward as though he hadn't heard Antonio right, quirking a brow. After a minute he smirked. "I can't even tell if you're joking, you tomato bastard. I don't think you could handle this fine hunk of man."

"It's just stripping. We can make a rule that it can't go past our boxers!" Antonio knew even then that he must be pretty drunk to suggest something like this, but figured that if it was ever questioned, he could use the wine as an excuse. Though, it might be nice to see Lovino stripping.

Lovino's eyes trailed down Antonio's body unabashedly. He made a noise of contemplation and maybe... maybe appreciation. With another gulp of wine, he wondered, _what's the harm?_ "So when do we lose the clothes? Every game, or every pair the other puts down, or what? I'm ready to get you out of your pants." He started, his wine blush deepening. "N-not like that, I mean, I'm ready to beat the pants off of you!"

"How about every pair the other puts down." Every game would be too slow, and every time they said Go Fish would be too quick, so this was right in the middle, Antonio figured. This was going to be so fun! And he was already winning, so hopefully he would keep getting pairs and get Lovino out of his clothes the fastest. "When one of us gets down to our boxers, then they lose.

"Pff. When I get you naked, I'll be the one to lose. My poor eyes," he joked. "Go fish."

It turned out that Lovino was the first to get a pair, so Antonio took off one sock. "I hope you don't have a foot fetish." He laughed, the wine getting to him even more. He should probably stop drinking, but it did taste really good.

"Only if the feet are fucking _gorgeous,_" he replied with a snort, eying Antonio's. "Yours are passable. Take _this,_ motherfucker." He slapped down another pair.

The Spaniard groaned, but still pulled off his other sock. On his next turn however, he got a pair, so Lovino had to take his sock off. "See? I'm catching up. I will totally win this!" Especially if his opponent had a Queen.

Lovino threw the black sock at Antonio's face and grumbled to himself. "We'll see about that."

Another sock, a navy overshirt and one watch later, Lovino was scowling deeply, his lips curved in sulky pout. "Stop winning, you damned lucky bastard..." he whined.

"I can't help it, I'm just lucky! And besides, I'm suffering too. My feet are really cold." Antonio grinned, indicating his bare feet. But he was still doing better than Lovino. He had even felt a little sorry for him, allowing his watch to be counted as a piece of clothes, even though it wasn't really. "Do you have a Jack?"

Lovino's pout deepened. He lifted his wide, glassy eyes at Antonio. "... you heartless fuck," he whimpered, tossing the Jack melodramatically at Antonio, clumsy fingers slipping a little as he tried to unbutton his shirt. He grunted when his hands and eyes didn't seem to coordinate. "I can't... stupid fucking buttons..."

"I would help you, but I probably couldn't do much better. Just lift it over your head." Antonio laughed as he put his pair in the pile. Maybe alcohol helped him win games or something. He watched as Lovino's chest was slowly revealed, and looked away, blaming the blush on the wine. His nipples were so cute! And they were perky too, reacting to the cool temperature of the room.

Lovino groaned when the shirt fell into his lap. His shoulder and head sagged against the couch, his eyelids drooped low. "You won. Bitch," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

But Antonio wouldn't have any of that. "No, you still have your pants on. Come on; ask me if I have anything!" The game was just starting! They couldn't end it now. He scooted closer to Lovino and poked him in the side. "You can't go to sleep now. If you go to sleep now I'll kiss you so you have to wake up, like Sleeping Beauty." It made sense in his mind at the moment, even if he wasn't a handsome prince, and the Italian wasn't a bewitched princess.

Lovino chuckled, shaking his head. "You wouldn't want to kiss me." Lifting the cards, he squinted at them, willing the sudden racing of his heart to slow. "Any twos?"

"I would want to kiss you! Why do you think I wouldn't want to kiss you?" Antonio handed over his two and started taking his own shirt off. It wasn't fair, Lovino had been wearing more clothes to start with. But he wasn't a poor loser, so he would still play.

He averted his gaze, suddenly feeling a bit wary of how riveted he might be at Antonio's chest. His smile was bitter from time and experience. "Because you've met Feliciano. Threes?"

"Go fish. And what does he have to do with me wanting to kiss you? You have very pretty lips, and I would want to kiss them whether I met your brother or not. Deuces?" Antonio knew that he really shouldn't be saying these things, because it wasn't very proper, and he shouldn't get into a relationship anyway until he got a handle on 'Spain'. But it was mostly the wine talking, and he didn't seem to be able to stop things from his brain going to his mouth.

Lovino did very well ignoring the intense red seeping into his cheeks. He'd been charmed before. He shouldn't be stupid enough to fall for it again. "Just wait," he said after telling Antonio to get on with his fishing. "Just you fucking wait. It's inevitable. You're gonna sit down with him one day and realize yeah, _I'm_ okay, but wow, how long his eyelashes are and how fucking pretty he is in the sunlight, how cute he is when he laughs and pouts and probably even when he shits. You won't be the first. Fucking inevitable. I know you've got a damned Ace in there somewhere."

A bit upset about how much Lovino seemed to be putting himself below his brother, Antonio leaned forward and pressed their lips together briefly. "There, now we can stop talking about that. Go fish, by the way."

Lovino's jaw dropped a fraction and he just stared at Antonio, his eyes wide in disbelief. "... Motherfucker, you must have cheated!" He stood, nearly upending his glass at the sudden movement. Cards flew every which way and he could only look down at Antonio, trying to cover his blush with the back of his hand. "S-shit, I'm going to bed..."

"I didn't cheat! I had an Ace, but then I got a pair. That's why you took your shirt off. And you can't leave, both of us still have our pants off. It's a tie right now, so don't leave!" Antonio pleaded, even though all the cards were now on the floor and pretty much useless.

Lovino's lips pressed into a thin line. Stupid bastard was too charming for his own good. "I forfeit. Happy? You won the game fair and square. And now I'm going to bed."

Standing up to his full height, the brunet suddenly didn't look so drunk. "No, I'm _not_ fucking happy. You let that pussy kiss you like that?" Spain yelled, going forward and quickly grabbing a fistful of Lovino's hair. "And don't you think he deserves to know that I already claimed you? Then he probably wouldn't have fucking _done_ that!"

Lovino gasped at the pain in his scalp, his hands scrambling for balance, only finding Antonio's bare shoulders. He stood trembling on his tiptoes to relieve some of the pain. "F-fuck! Let go, you shitty bastard! You haven't claimed jack shit!"

"Yes I have! That pansy doesn't deserve to have you." Spain pulled him over to the couch, pushing him down on it. "You know what, I'm gonna be nice and let him see this. Because that pussy sure as hell would never have the courage to take your pants off himself." He went for Lovino's fly, even though the Italian was struggling.

"No! Don't! Don't let him see, you fucking shitfaced asshole!" He reached up, covering 'Spain's' eyes so that Antonio couldn't see from deep inside. "I'll scream if you do! I'll wake the entire fucking block!"

He wrestled the hand away, and then gave a cruel smirk. "Alright, let's say that I do what you ask and don't let that wuss see anything. What would you do for me?" He did like consensual better, because it was just... _easier_ that way. Less messy.

Swallowing thickly, Lovino fell lax. "W... what do you want?" he asked quietly, knowing what the answer would be, hoping that he was wrong.

"I want you to suck my dick, like the good little bitch you are." Spain stood up so that his crotch was eye level with Lovino, showing that he was already getting hard.

His breath caught in his throat and he felt his fingers slowly curl into fists. He weighed his options as carefully as his wine-soaked mind could. "F-fuck you," he said weakly, his throat closing up in his attempt at retaliation. But what could he do? This fuck was crazy. "... You won't let Antonio see? You promise? You'd better fucking promise. I'll fucking bite your dick off."

Spain put his hand on his naked chest in fake sincerity. "I give my word. Cub scout's honour." Then he laughed, already reaching down to undo his fly. "I wouldn't want him to see this anyway. I want _this _all to myself."

Lovino shuddered at the tone of his voice, sneering. "You fuck on the third date? How trashy." But then Spain slid the elastic of Antonio's briefs down and he caught sight of that cock, long and impossibly thick and dark and all other thoughts were gone. "... _Fuck._"

"Yeah that's right. Unlike your mama's boy, I actually know what to do with this thing." Spain gave it a long slow stroke to bring it to full erection, his green eyes glinting menacingly. "What the fuck is taking you so long? I thought we had a deal." Quite possibly one of the best deals he had ever made.

Lovino winced and let his eyelids fall to half mast so he couldn't catch even a glimpse of those acidic green eyes as he slowly sat up, tentatively reaching out to wrap his fingers around the base of the admittedly _fantastic _piece of work. He tried his very best to shut out the sound of Spain's voice, trying to think of something else as he licked the head slowly. A bitter, salty flavor burst on his tongue and it was suddenly much harder to imagine a completely different tone of voice talking to him, that dark hand that had been yanking at his hair gently running through it instead, encouraging words falling from his Spanish tongue sweetly, gently instead of that harsh, sharp goading.

Spain snarled. This was going much too slow for his liking. "Open your fucking mouth already!" As soon as Lovino hesitantly opened up wide, the personality thrust his hips forward. His hand grabbed onto the hair, making it easier to push him farther down his cock. "Yeah that's it, you like having a dick shoved down your throat, don't you, slut?"

Lovino gagged, his fingernails digging deeply into Spain's hips. He tried to pull away, but the hand in his hair wouldn't let him, and he was so terrified that the coordination it took to breathe through his nose was impossible. Anxiety and fear bubbled in his mind and when his heart picked up, his lungs struggling for air, he began to hyperventilate, only serving to choke himself on the cock. Terror gripped him and he sobbed, tears spilling unbidden from his eyes. He was afraid, terribly afraid, of what might happen to him if he bit down, but he was running out of options as fast as he was running out of oxygen.

When Spain heard the choked sob, he looked down and saw tears starting to fall from Lovino's eyes. He pulled back quickly. "Fuck," he mumbled. He seriously hadn't meant to make him cry. He pulled out harshly and fled the living room, going up to the room that Antonio was renting, and slammed the door. He walked to the bed, and started punching the fluffy pillows. "Fuck fuck fuck!" Now he was hard with no one to suck him off. The personality resigned himself to his fate and started jerking himself off.

Lovino spent the better part of the next ten minutes curled tightly around himself on the loveseat surrounded by scattered playing cards and spilled wine. After a bit he unfurled himself and stood on shaken legs to retreat down the hall, only hesitating near Antonio's door before darting quickly past to the bathroom to retch the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.


	4. Chapter 4

To anonymous juggg: I don't remember any part of the last chapter insinuating that we thought rape was funny. And while I personally am mindful of timing the story right for the enjoyment of others, what we put in it is what we like regardless of what fangirls might enjoy. If people like it, good for them. If they don't, it doesn't matter in the long run. This is for us. Stop worrying about other people being mainstream. Rape isn't "mainstream". You should probably worry more about curing the hipster in you than about the completely off-the-mark way you perceived our fic just to be "different". Did you even read the last chapter, or are you totally going off reviews? The story is already nearly complete. I'm posting the chapters weekly, but we've had the content written for months. We aren't changing who Spain is. He is an aggressor and a bully. That's the difference between him and Antonio, and without that difference, there wouldn't be much of a conflict, now, would there? It's called characterization. It is _not_ the plot in its entirety. It _is_ required for good fanfiction. Learn to live with it or go ahead and hop aboard the badfic train.

Concrit is appreciated, guys, but when you're ridiculous, it's ridiculous. And if you're ridiculous, don't be anonymous about it. That's just ridiculous.

* * *

><p>After three weeks, Antonio still was being kept in the dark about 'Spain' coming out almost every night. There were a few close calls though, like when 'Spain' broke a plate and there was a cut on his arm, or like when Lovino had accidentally mentioned the name of Antonio's half sister, which the alternate personality had just told him the night before.<p>

The farmer's market was bustling with people now that spring had finally begun. Ripe fruit, jams, fresh bread, and bright flower blossoms popped with color and life from all around. If not for the ridiculous amount of people, it would have been Lovino's favorite place to be. Antonio seemed completely in his element, though, smiling and waving at people he probably didn't even know. Lovino rolled his eyes, gravitating toward a stand with imported tomato plants.

Antonio grinned at one of the shop keepers. "Oh wow, Audry, these apples look delicious! Maybe even better than last week, though _they_ would be hard to beat." He knew a few of the other people there, and said hello to them as well. Lovino seemed to be brooding over by the tomato plant tent, but he had things that he wanted to buy. Then the Spaniard spotted a stall and grinned.

A few minutes later, he was handing Lovino a candy apple with a big smile on his face.

"The fu..." Lovino glanced at the little girl looking at him with wide blue eyes just a few feet away and cleared his throat, blushing. "Are you trying to rot my teeth out of my skull?" he asked, taking the apple nonetheless and biting into it.

"The apple part is good for you. And you looked like you needed some cheering up! Plus it's red, which suits you." It suited him so well because of how often Lovino was blushing, but he didn't mention that. "Look, I got a bunch of fresh fruit and vegetables. I'm going to make an apple crisp tonight for dessert with all these delicious apples."

"That sounds fu... amazing. I-if you don't screw it up, I mean." Lovino took another bite, licking at the caramel layer as they wandered up the grassy strip. He gave a sidelong glance at the hanging plants and paused, reaching out to examine some of the leaves. "Would it be too gay to get one of these, d'you think?" he asked, half to himself, half to his roommate.

The brunet paused to look at them and gave a small laugh. "How can it be too gay when there are two gay guys living there?" Besides, the plant looked pretty. It would probably go very well above their deck, with the tomato plants already there.

"That's the _hypocyrta_," a tall blond gentleman said near the cash table. His dark green apron and overall demeanor suggested authority. There was a short scar situated on his forehead. "It's also called the goldfish plant."

"Why?" Lovino asked, checking for a price.

"Because in the summer, winter and fall, the blooms'll look like goldfish."

"Is it tacky as fuck, or is it pretty cool?" Lovino asked, feeling a little abashed when an elderly woman holding the hand of a toddler shot him a dirty look.

The man shrugged and looked at the plant. "I have three, so I think they're cool."

Antonio stepped up and took the plant. "We'll take it." He turned to Lovino and grinned. "I can tell you like it, and if I don't do anything you'll just talk yourself out of it."

Lovino harrumphed, pretending not to be terribly pleased that a few moments later, he had a hanging plant over his arm. "Don't get too cocky. It's not like I like it or anything. I just want to know what it's going to look like when it blooms."

"It'll look beautiful, I'm sure." They left the market, arms full of everything they had bought. Well, mostly what Antonio had bought, because he was in charge of getting all the groceries, but Lovino had bought a few things as well. "So, are you planning to do anything tomorrow? Because I was wondering if you would like to go to the circus that's in town."

"The circus?" Climbing into Antonio's beat-up, old-as-Jesus car he felt no pressure from the general public not to dirty the minds of small children. "Why the fuck would I pay to see a bunch of freaks doing stupid shit when I could just sit on a park bench and do it for free?"

As he pulled out of the crowded parking lot, Antonio shrugged. He had planned this to be a way to ask Lovino out on a date, but it didn't seem to be going well. "I could pay for you, or something. But I get it if you don't want to go." He had figured this is how it would turn out anyway; he didn't want to press the issue. Lovino glanced at him for a long moment out of the corner of his eye and leaned back in his seat, holding the hypocyrta tight between his legs and folding his arms over his chest.

"Well if you're going to sound so fucking glum about it, I'll go. Damn." His face was turned toward the window, unaware that the very visible tips of his ears were just as red as his face.

"Really? Are you sure?" Antonio was smiling again, hardly able to keep his eyes on the road because he was so happy. "It'll be fun, don't worry. They don't use animals, so there isn't the whole moral issue with it being animal abuse, and apparently they have a wonderful acrobatic act. You'll love it!"

"Mmm," Lovino hummed noncommittally, fiddling with the leaves of his plant.

It was cool and quiet back inside the apartment, and it made Lovino want nothing more than to curl up in his bed and take a good long nap. He stepped outside onto the patio and scanned above the door with scrutinizing eyes, finding a white painted hook within seconds. He hung the plant over it and rested his fists on his hips. "You're one out of place motherfucker," he said in amusement, glancing around at the vast array of nothing but tomato plants.

Inside, Antonio was getting out the slow-cooker to make a stew. It was still pretty early, so it would have a lot of time to cook, and would be delicious. When Lovino came back inside, he grinned over at him. "I'll make something for lunch after this, but if you're hungry now you could have an apple or something we got from the market."

Lovino rubbed his eyes as a slow, sweet wave of lethargy rose within him. "Mm, nah, I'm gonna go take a nap. Don't burn my kitchen down."

No matter how many good meals he had made without incident, Lovino still said so on a regular basis. Antonio smiled to himself and in that moment he decided that _this_ is the kind of life style he would strive towards. Living with his lover, cooking for his lover, going out with his lover... not saying that his lover would be the Italian, because it wasn't like they had done anything. He didn't really count the barely-remembered kiss when they had both been hopelessly drunk. He suspected that Lovino didn't even remember it since he had never brought it up after.

Lovino slept far longer than anticipated, waking up groggy-eyed well after dinnertime. He wondered why he had woken up at all, but then recognized the sound of gentle knocking on his door. "Dammit, what do you want?" he groaned.

"Supper is ready. You've been sleeping for a long time, is everything alright?" Antonio stood at the door, not opening it because he hadn't been invited in. Lovino groaned again and nuzzled his face into the plush pillow in his arms. "No," he replied grouchily. "You woke me up, you damned tomato bastard." He didn't feel much like getting up, and in fact, he didn't feel terribly hungry, either. It was... odd. Well. The last part, anyway.

"Please? You haven't eaten anything since that candy apple. You must be hungry, and I don't like eating alone." Besides, he always loved it when the small brunet truly liked what he had made, but tried to hide it to keep his demeanor intact. Antonio didn't want to miss out on that just because Lovino didn't want to get out of bed.

"I'm not hungry," Lovino called back sincerely, closing his eyes. He nearly turned onto his side and grimaced; his stomach rolled in an unsettling, queasy sort of way. "Stop yelling at me through my door. Either go away or come in."

So Antonio opened the door and looked in. The room was really dark, heavy curtains pulled over the window. He went over to the bed and turned on the lamp, looking at Lovino. He was as flushed as he usually got when drunk or angry, and he didn't look so good. "Are you sick? You should have told me." He felt the Italian's forehead, his brow furrowed in worry. "You have a fever. I'll get you some water and an aspirin."

Lovino groaned, completely losing the will to reach out and turn the lamp off. He merely pressed his face into the pillow, whimpering in a very manly fashion. He heard Antonio return with the water and peeked up. "... lamp," he grumbled, suddenly feeling terribly thirsty.

He put the water down and turned off the light. "Here, take this pill, and here's the water. Do you want anything else?" Antonio waited for Lovino so swallow the pill and drink half the glass, and knew that one thing he would have to get was another glass of water. He didn't mind though, just hoping that he wasn't too sick. Lovino made a noise as he downed the pill, glaring at Antonio without passion.

"I'm not sick," he insisted. "I'm not. Just tired. So get your ass some dinner and don't you dare try to baby me." He wasn't going to ask for another glass of water, no matter how badly he wanted it; it would have totally ruined the effect!

"Alright. I'll do that after I bring you some more water. And maybe some apple juice too, because it is good to have a lot of fluids." He left the room before Lovino could disagree, because he had a feeling that he would. He was just so stubborn, even saying he wasn't sick when he obviously was.

Hours passed and Lovino fell into a long, restless half sleep, only broken on occasion when he would hear Antonio pacing outside his door without coming in. As the night wore on, he began feeling worse and worse, his once dry throat stinging with every swallow, as though there were tiny shards of glass in his saliva. His face was hot, too hot, and his stomach rolled with a dull, awful ache. But his pride kept him from calling out when Antonio was near, hiding his whimpers for when the footsteps receded down the hallway every so often.

At one unidentified point in the night, he woke up, his eyelids heavy and his throat too dry to ignore, and his bladder fit to bursting. Light seeped through under the door, but he didn't hear any footsteps, so carefully, groggily Lovino swung his legs over the side of the bed and stepped through the door into the silent apartment. The sudden motion made his head spin and throb and he clutched it, wincing. He slowly made his way from the room, glass in hand.

Spain glared at him as he walked around the corner. "There you fucking go, making that pussy worry about you all day. And what's your problem, agreeing to go out with him? The circus... that's the worst excuse for a date I've ever heard!" He threw his hands up to express his irritation.

Leaping about six feet in the air at the sudden noise, Lovino clutched his reeling head. "F-fuck," he whimpered hoarsely, leaning against his door frame and closing his eyes. Spain was standing there in the hall, just standing there, watching. He wondered vaguely how long he had been waiting.

"I mean, first I have to listen to his stupid mind going on and on about how great the circus will be, and then after that it's all worrying about you! This is probably just your stupid-ass way of getting out of the fucking date anyway, but does he realize that? No, of course not, 'cause he's too stupid." Yes, he was ranting, Spain knew very well, but really it just wasn't _fair_.

Lovino only looked at him, not even finding the will to reply. His throat was on fire and just being upright was making him dizzy. "Gotta piss," he grumbled, brushing past the personality.

Spain followed him, not letting him close the door to the bathroom. "So piss, don't let me stop you. After all, I've seen your dick enough times in the wimp's dreams, might as well see the real thing, right?"

"What the fuck ever," he mumbled, going through the motions without even an abashed glance in Spain's direction. After washing his hands he bent over, drinking handfuls of tap water from his cupped hands like he hadn't had water in days. He leaned heavily on his elbows when a headache crashed through his head like a wave.

The personality looked away. This wasn't fun if Lovino wouldn't even try to fight with him about stuff! Spain stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the door open. "God, just go get a drink from the kitchen or something, that's fucking gross. You look like a dog or something."

Deciding that perhaps it was a decent enough idea, and that he'd probably want some water later, he shuffled slowly to the kitchen, groaning quietly to himself as every step made his stomach churn. He saw Spain in his periphery and just as he was reaching out for a moist glass in the dish drainer, he froze, knowing that feeling well, the prelude to...

Yes. His head deep inside the garbage can, retching miserably.

"That's fucking disgusting," Spain said, coming closer. He wasn't exactly sure what to do, because he had never been around a sick person before. It was always Antonio, because he always wanted to be a mother fucking caretaker or some shit. Lovino had stopped vomiting, but still had his head in the bin. The personality saw a napkin on the table, and nonchalantly dropped in to the ground. "Clean yourself up, that's gross."

Lovino wasn't bothered by the harsh response in and of itself, for he had learned early in life to take care of himself. He'd been on his own and through influenza and various other illnesses before. But there was something about that normally kind, sweet voice speaking to him so coldly, so devoid of gentleness that shook him suddenly. Fatigued and aching, he felt hot tears run coolly down even hotter cheeks. "I want Antonio," he hiccupped, rubbing at his eyes.

Suddenly, the brunet teetered over the borderline of anger. "Well he's not fucking here right now! Deal with it!" The glass of water that Lovino had poured had been left on the counter, so Spain grabbed it and threw it at him. "Fuck you! Fuck you to hell! No wonder that chicken-shit hasn't fucked you yet, who the hell would want to!"

Lovino looked up, his eyes bleary and leaking, the moisture dripping ceaselessly from his cheeks into the trash can a mixture of tears and tap water. A broken sob wrenched from his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but no other sound would come out. He was cold from the water and hot from the fever and his stomach clenched and his heart throbbed painfully.

Spain made a mistake. In his anger, he had let Antonio see what was happening, and now he knew. Suddenly, the brunet groaned and crouched down on the floor, holding his head. This had never happened before! What was happening to him?

When he looked up again, it was Antonio's gentler green that shone through the dark kitchen and he rushed to Lovino's side. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know!" He grabbed a towel, wiping off the Italian's face.

"A-Antonio?" Lovino whimpered, reaching out. He grabbed Antonio by the sleeve and sobbed, falling against him. "I ch-changed m-my mind," he blubbered, knowing he must have looked awful and smelled like puke, and Spain was right; there was no way anyone would love him. And for the first time in years, the thought hurt him ten thousand times worse than any stomachache. "I _am _sick."

The Spaniard chuckled, holding him close to his chest. "Yeah, I can tell. It's okay though, I'll take care of you." It was only beginning to dawn on him that he had beaten Spain. He had wanted out so badly, and now he was out! That could only mean one thing. He knew that the alternate personality was still there, but maybe he was getting stronger than him. Maybe he could conquer this problem after all.

"You d-don't have to," he said insistently, and even so, his arms wrapped themselves tightly around Antonio's waist. He couldn't remember the last time he had been held. It was... nice. His throat closed up and he whimpered. "I n-need to go back to bed," he said thickly.

Antonio nodded, and picked him up. Lovino started squirming, but he shook his head. "You're sick, so I'm carrying you. Don't try to argue."

Really, that was all he needed to hear to justify nuzzling his face into the warm crook of Antonio's neck. The fever and the water soaked through his shirt made him shiver, trembling in the Spaniard's arms. "F-fuck, I'm _not _a pussy," he mumbled.

"I know. It's just because you're sick. You can hit me for this later if you want." They went up the stairs, and Antonio made sure not to hit Lovino's legs when he went in the room. Thankfully the door was still open, so he didn't have to worry about that. Placing him on the bed, Antonio realized that he would have to change him, because the Italian's clothes were all wet. "Where are you pajamas? I'm going to have to help you into them."

"'s fine, I normally don't wear any to bed." Lovino coughed and struggled to sit up. With clumsy movements he tried to tug the wet shirt over his head.

Frowning, the tall brunet walked over to him. "Seriously, what don't you understand about being sick?" He helped his take his shirt off, and put it on the bottom of the bed. "And you need pajamas, they'll keep you warm. You must have at least one pair. Or you can wear some of mine."

"...Don't need your charity," he mumbled, flopping back into the bed. Now that the wet shirt was off, he felt hot... way too hot. Unbuttoning his pants, he tried to pull them from his body, groaning at how quickly his strength was sapped from him. They didn't even make it past his thighs.

Antonio took his pants off as well, and put them with the shirt. "It's not charity, I'm just lending you some pajamas. Besides, you admitted you were sick, so that gives me every right to help you." He went to get the PJ's without a further word, so that Lovino couldn't object. Besides, he wouldn't be able to take care of him very well if his eyes kept lingering on his flushed, sweaty chest...

At his return, Lovino slowly opened his eyes. He pointed at the light switch. "Turn... can you turn the light off? It's too bright."

He did as he was asked, and went over to the sick Italian and put the PJ's on the bed, taking the pants. "Come on, lift your legs up please." He got them on, and got Lovino to sit up so he could put the shirt on. "Alright, that's better. Since you still have a fever though, I'm going to get you a cold wash cloth, and some more water."

The Italian watched him go with a vaguely puzzled expression. It was there when he returned, and once the cool, moist cloth was on his forehead, Lovino reached up and snatched his wrist weakly. "Don't leave, okay?" He swallowed thickly after a short moment when Antonio didn't reply. "U-unless you want to. Then, whatever. I don't care. F-fuck."

"It's alright, I'll stay." Antonio smiled and moved the cloth so that it wasn't falling off. He went to sit down in the chair that was by the bed and grabbed Lovino's hand. "Do you want another pill?"

Lovino shook his head, half hiding his face in the fluffy pillow. He peeked out at Antonio, though, and allowed himself the tiniest bit of comfort in Antonio's big, warm hand. "I... I have a question."

"Yeah? What is it?" Antonio asked, smiling down at him.

"How..." No, that wasn't what he wanted to know. It didn't matter _how. _He paused for a long minute to cough, and after a deep gulp of water, he closed his eyes. "Why did you put that crazy mothefucker in his place?"

He paused for a moment, thinking back to what he had felt when he had seen 'Spain' throw water at him. "Well, I wanted him to stop, and wanted to get to you. You needed help, because you were sick, and he was being mean to you." It had felt really good to overpower him for once.

"... oh." Lovino didn't know what he had been hoping for, and he didn't know why he was disappointed, but that didn't make the feeling go away. It wasn't any surprise; Antonio probably would have done the same for anyone. He was just a caring person. "Well... good. Keep him wherever he is."

"I'll try. Maybe I won't be able to completely keep him out, but I hope now that I can control him better." Antonio was still happy that he had been able to save Lovino. But he had a suspicion that it wasn't because he was suddenly stronger, but only that he had been extremely desperate to stop 'Spain' because it was Lovino that he was tormenting.

"Mmm. I told you that you could if you just tried." Lovino let his eyelids droop and fall, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow. The urge to sleep washed over him yet again. "Teach you not to listen to me, motherfucker."

He rolled his eyes with a fond smile and watched Lovino get more comfortable. "Alright. Well, don't worry; I can be here all tomorrow to look after you too, because you obviously are sick." He would try to sell the tickets for the circus, but he was sure that his secretary would love to go with her sister.

"As long as it's you," Lovino murmured back, already half asleep. He drifted off, wondering if he had imagined in his feverish half-asleep mind the sensation of soft lips touching the back of his hand.

* * *

><p>Since Lovino had asked him to stay, Antonio spent the night in the room. He grabbed a blanket and curled up on the comfy chair in the corner, getting up twice to check the Italian's temperature. He definitely seemed to be getting better already, which was a good thing because he really didn't like seeing his roommate like this.<p>

Somewhere around four in the morning, Lovino awoke and just watched, half asleep, as the silhouette of a certain Spaniard was sprawled half across his bed. Groaning, he reached over, pulling at Antonio's arm. When the taller man stirred, he pulled some of the covers back and rolled over, mumbling, "Fuck, just get in."

"Oh? Uh, okay." Antonio got up and rolled into the bed, sighing in the warmth. Since he was awake, he felt Lovino's forehead, and thankfully it was very nearly at a normal temperature. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmph. You too," he grumbled, haphazardly tossing the cover over Antonio. It was a familiar action; whenever Feliciano visited overnight they always ended up in the same bed.

They both fell asleep rather quickly, and both enjoyed the feeling of having such a warm body so close to their own.

* * *

><p>Antonio woke up in the morning and went to make something for breakfast. Since Lovino was sick, he just made toast with honey, since that always helped him when <em>he<em> was sick. It was a challenge waking Lovino up; he seemed to be fighting it all the way. "Fuuuuck, what do you want?" he complained hoarsely, squinting up at Antonio.

"You have to eat. You haven't eaten since yesterday morning." Antonio sat down on the bed and put the plate on Lovino's lap. "And you need to drink to keep your fluids up." He helped the Italian to sit up so that it was easier for him to eat his toast.

But Lovino wasn't going down without a fight. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he rasped, glaring at the toast like it was the devil himself. "My throat burns like shit and you're gonna make me eat toast? Motherfucker, whose side are you on?"

"That's what the water is for. Come on, it's for your own good. Besides, the honey will sooth your throat, it's good for you." He had made sure not to make the toast that brown, so that it wasn't scratchy and hard. "For lunch I can make you some chicken soup, but for now you should eat this."

Antonio really didn't seem to take no for an answer, and after a few more moments of insistent bickering, Lovino nibbled at the toast. He wasn't happy, not one little bit, but he couldn't really refuse with Antonio shoving it down his throat.

Satisfied once his sick roommate had eaten, Antonio put the glass of water in his hand and took the plates downstairs. "Make sure you drink all of it. I'll bring you some more when I'm done cleaning up the kitchen." It was kind of nice being able to take care of Lovino like this, especially since he couldn't yell at him.

Lovino stuck his tongue out after Antonio and huffed, falling back against his pillows and wincing at the reeling of his head. He looked to his left with a sigh and stared out the window for lack of anything better to do. A cardinal flew by, which was a little odd for that time of year. Not that Lovino was complaining. He felt his eyelids slowly growing heavier with every second and after a short time, he fell into a feather-light half sleep. He didn't even register it when Antonio quietly reentered the room.

Not wanting to wake him, the Spaniard left the glass of water by the bed and silently went to sit in the chair with a book in hand. He had a small reading light, so he could leave the light off for Lovino. He really couldn't forget to call his secretary about the circus tickets, but in the end, if they weren't used at all, it wasn't such a terrible loss.

He must have fallen asleep without his knowledge, because when he woke, Lovino was no longer in the bed. A moment after realizing that he was gone, the Italian walked back into the room, buttoning his shirt as he moved. "You're awake," he observed, lifting his dark eyes at the Spaniard. "Good. What time is the circus?"

"Six. But you're sick, why are you out of bed?" And dressed. Antonio stood up and went over to him, noting his red eyes and nose.

"I can't just stay in bed if we're going to a glorified freak show, now can I? Gotta make myself pretty." He smirked.

Antonio sighed and shook his head. "We don't have to go, it's alright. You're sick, so you should be staying in bed, and _not _going to a circus." He tried moving Lovino back to the bed, but he was putting up a fight.

"You're overreacting," Lovino huffed, prodding him back. "I've been way worse and done much more than watch a few clowns tap dance before. It's not that big of a deal." He tried to make his voice stronger than a weak rasp.

A lifted eyebrow was all that he received. "You can hardly talk because your nose is so congested. Don't be ridiculous, there will be other chances for you to see people risking their lives for the enjoyment of others." Antonio gave a small smile, wondering why Lovino wanted to go so bad.

Lovino's frown deepened. "I'm fucking fine! And I want to see some motherfucking creep-ass clowns, so whether or not you're going, _I_ am." Which was a complete lie; if Antonio wasn't going, there was no point.

Eventually, no matter how much Antonio tried to get him to stay home, they ended up in the car that evening, well on their way to the circus. At least he had gotten Lovino to wear a heavy coat so that he would stay warm as possible, and a wooly scarf. "At least take some Tylenol. Please."

"Mother of all blue fucks," Lovino said in exasperation, "fine! As long as it'll get you off my ass. Geez." He would force himself to stay awake during the drive, despite the heavy lethargy crashing over him every so often.

"Good, there is a bottle in my jacket." He pointed to where it was across Lovino's lap. "We'll be there soon, though, so don't worry."

"Mmmh," Lovino grunted, swallowing the medicine and making a face.

The line for the circus was a monster of a queue and it made Lovino want to collapse just looking at it. But to prove Antonio wrong, he slammed the car door and strolled toward it full of purpose... if a bit wobbly.

"We can go back you know. I don't mind," Antonio said, walking after him when he locked the car. The line was longer than he had expected, and he didn't think it would be a good idea for Lovino to be standing for too long outside.

"Bitch, the night is not over until I get a fucking balloon," Lovino said, ignoring Antonio's statement completely. He wondered if his barely strangled coughs could pass as insanely cough-like laughter at a nearby clown.

The line didn't take as long as expected, but Antonio still saw that the small Italian had started to shiver. He took off his own jacket, draping it loosely around his shoulders, hands lingering on them for a few seconds longer than necessary. "You can give it back when we get inside."

"Bastard," Lovino said quietly, rubbing at his cheeks in embarrassment. "Won't you get cold?"

He shook his head, smiling. "You need it more than I do. Besides, we're almost at the door anyway." Antonio was glad he had worn gloves and a long sleeve shirt though. It wasn't winter, but the cold weather seemed to be hanging around a lot later than it would normally.

Lovino shifted from foot to foot nervously, measuring in his mind the distance from where they stood to the door. Then he observed the pitiful choice in clothing Antonio had chosen for such a chilly night. Hesitantly, he reached over, circling his arms around one of Antonio's. He kept his eyes straight forward and was thankful for the nearly dark night for sufficiently hiding the color in his face. "I'm not concerned about you," he assured. "I just don't want to keel over if any wind comes."

And that's how they were until they got to the door and Antonio had to take the tickets out of his pocket. Inside was warmer, thankfully, and there were a few clowns here and there making balloon animals for kids. He pointed to one and grinned. "You said you wanted a balloon. Want to ask him for one?"

Lovino let go of his arm and shrugged off the jacket, tossing it at Antonio and pretending that he didn't appreciate the lingering scent of the Spaniard on his clothes. "Fuck yes, I love balloons."

"Then go ask for one. Quick, before a five year old beats you to it." Antonio grinned, pushing Lovino toward the man with the big red nose. "What do you want? Oh, maybe he can make a tomato! Or would that just be a round red balloon?"

Lovino looked up at the man with the balloons and something resembling a pout formed on his face. "I want a balloon. That one. No, _that_ one- the red one. Motherfucker, there's only one red balloon there, just pick it out!"

When Lovino came back with his red balloon, Antonio was laughing. "You really got one."

They went to find their seats, the balloon floating above their heads on a string. "It really suits you, you know." Then he grabbed the Italian's warm hand that wasn't holding the ribbon.

Lovino jolted at the contact and looked down at their hands for a moment, confused and bewildered. "The flu or the balloon?" he mumbled, looking away pointedly. Oh look, a ballerina on stilts. So much more interesting than the big, warm hand squeezing his own. Abso-fucking-lutely.

"The balloon. I would rather you didn't have the flu, because I feel bad when you're sick." They got to their seats finally, and it was a good thing they had aisle seats in case Lovino got any more sick and they had to leave early. "The balloon suits you, because it's cute and red."

Lovino turned and stared at him. He squinted, glaring and probing as if he was trying to solve some odd equation. "The fuck are you talking about? What's your angle, you crazy bastard?"

Making as if he was really interested in the clown car that just drove in the circle, Antonio flexed his hand. "Nothing, I guess. But... is there a reason you wanted to come here so badly?" He had been hoping that this would be considered a date, but just because they were both gay and out to see a circus didn't mean that it was, so he didn't want to ask outright in case it made Lovino awkward.

The Italian looked down at his lap and frowned. "You wanted to go, didn't you?" he asked in a voice so soft, he couldn't be sure if Antonio had heard him over the crowd. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't. There was no point in getting his hopes up just to have them crushed underfoot. There was no way he'd be stupid enough to think of anything Antonio did as anything but acts of kindness from a man who was compulsively sweet by nature. "Is that guy wearing a silver codpiece over his leotard? Seriously?... fuck, that's tacky."

"Yeah, it looks weird. But I think he's going to swallow a sword." Antonio couldn't stop the huge grin on his face, because he had definitely heard what Lovino had said. It wasn't what he had hoped him to say, that they were on a date, but it was probably the closest he could get with his temperamental companion.

It was all well and good until around the fourth performance in, when the acrobats in flaming orange spandex were finishing their acts before intermission that a wave of dizziness overcame Lovino. His fingers tightened in Antonio's and he leaned heavily against his shoulder, closing his eyes.

Looking over, Antonio put his hand on Lovino's cheek. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an elderly woman glaring at them, but ignored her. "Are you alright? Do you want to go?"

Lovino shook his head, shivering. "No," he mumbled, "no, it's fine. I just need a minute. Fucking sensory overload." He didn't dare open his eyes to see the world spinning, so he rested his forehead on Antonio's shoulder, taking deep, steady breaths and willing the sick churning of his stomach to calm the fuck down.

"Alright, but if it gets any worse tell me. We can leave if you want to." Antonio moved his hand so he was rubbing Lovino's back in a comforting way. He was really pale, but the colour was already coming back to his face.

They continued on for a while like that, even as people were exiting in droves for intermission. When the theater was less crowded Lovino lifted his head. "Fuck," he said, sitting up. "I hate being sick. Do you still have some water?"

Antonio shook his head and stood up. "I'll go get you some. Do you want anything else? Could you handle popcorn right now?" He thought that would be appropriate, for where they were. But if Lovino still wasn't feeling well, then maybe he shouldn't get any.

Lovino shook his head, leaning forward on his elbows and rubbing his temples. "Nn. No, that's fine. I don't want to upchuck on the little kids that sit in front of us."

So the Spaniard went to get some water. The line was stupidly long, so it took him a while, but finely he was asking the pimply teenager for a bottle of water. He got back right before the intermission ended, and found Lovino slouching in his chair, head in hands. "Here you go. Is it getting worse?"

Lovino peeked up at Antonio through his fingers and silently reached for the bottle, draining half of it in just a few gulps. "Just waiting for that fucking medicine to kick in," he grumbled, wincing as the crash of symbols sounded through the entire theater. "F-fuck..."

That was it; Antonio decided that they were leaving. He grabbed both their jackets, and held out his hand for Lovino. "I'm taking you home and getting you in bed." He didn't notice as a mother right behind them covered her daughter's ears, he was only concerned for the brunet.

Lovino glanced up sharply at him and glared. "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "Quit making a scene. Sit down, shut the fuck up and watch the damn circus."

"No, we've already seen half, that's good enough. You need to go to bed." He was determined, more than usual, and this time wouldn't take no for an answer. It didn't matter if he was making a scene, Lovino wasn't feeling well and if it wasn't for him coming up with the idea of going to a stupid circus, then he would be sleeping in bed.

Frowning, Lovino took Antonio's hand and let himself be pulled from the theater against the rush of oncoming patrons. He held on a little tighter just so he wouldn't be swept away. Fuck, it was getting claustrophobic...

With a protective arm around Lovino's shoulders, Antonio steered him towards the exit. He put the jacket over him before they went outside, and made sure to put his arm back around him. "It's alright, we'll get home and you can go to bed. I'll make some chicken soup too, and you'll feel better."

The Italian felt flushed, confused and way too pleased at the attention. He knew he should have wriggled away and kept to himself but he supposed... just this once it would be okay to succumb to the gestures. He wouldn't build any hopes and dreams on them or anything.

Once in the car, Antonio busied himself with getting it warm, which took a few minutes. "You can go to sleep if you want. I'll wake you up when we get home."

He didn't need to be told twice. Lovino was out like a light before they'd even left the parking lot, huddling in on himself in the passenger seat, shivering despite his fever.

When they pulled into the parking garage, Antonio looked over to the Italian, who was lightly snoring in the passenger seat. He really didn't want to wake him up... maybe he could just carry him inside. He had carried him before, after all. The only problem would be opening the door to the house. He went over to the other side of the car and undid Lovino's seat belt, getting a hand under his legs and back.

Lovino didn't wake up when he was lifted from the car, and even slept through Antonio shifting him slightly to get the front door open. They finally got to Lovino's bedroom, and the Spaniard didn't even try to get him changed, he just tucked him into the warm bed. But before he could walk away, Lovino's hand sneaked around his wrist and held him fast. "... sorry," he mumbled with the blankets tucked around his chin.

Antonio looked down at him, even if he could only see about half his face because of the blankets. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I hope you had fun, though." He ran his fingers through Lovino's hair affectionately, pushing it away from his forehead.

"You only say that because you're too fucking sweet for your own good." He turned a little, coughing raucously for a moment. "Now... get outta here before you get sick, too."

"What do you mean? You can never be too sweet." Antonio grinned and pat his forehead before leaving. "Go to sleep; you need it."

Succumbing to Antonio's will, Lovino fell into a deep sleep, not realizing just yet that for the first time since he'd known Antonio, "Spain" had not revealed himself for an entire day.


	5. Chapter 5

Antonio was early for his appointment, so he chatted with Feliciano for a bit, told him about what had been happening with Lovino. He had invited the older twin to come along so he could see his brother, but Lovino had refused, saying that he would rather clean the entire apartment with a toothbrush.

"Ve," Feliciano said, clapping his hands, "you took my brother on a date? And he consented? That's so great!" He leaned forward conspiratorially, a grin on his face. "Did you make a move on him?"

A blush darkened his face and Antonio shook his head. "Of course not; he was sick, and besides, it was the first date! I don't even think he _considered_ it a date." He heard Ludwig come out of the office to the right. The German walked over to Feliciano.

"I told you to let him in at two thirty. It is now two thirty-one. You have a watch; you should pay more attention to it." Then he looked up at Antonio and gestured toward the room. "If you both are finished talking."

"Sorry Ludwig," Feliciano giggled, waving at Antonio. "He has such big news, I could not help myself."

In the doctor's meticulous office, Ludwig leaned against his desk in front of Antonio, folding his arms across his chest. "You have news?"

"Well yes, but not the news he is talking about." The Spaniard sat down on the comfy chair. Feliciano thought the biggest news he had was that he went on a sort-of date with Lovino. "A few days ago, 'Spain' came out, and I saw that he was being mean to Lovi, and I actually overpowered him."

Ludwig's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That's wonderful," he said with a little smile. "For how long have you managed to keep him away?"

"Well, it has been three days. But that was the first time he had come out since I've been living there." At least that's what Lovino told him, and what he wanted to believe. He had his suspicions that it wasn't true sometimes, but he had stopped asking.

Ludwig looked skeptical. "Is that so? That seems very lucky. Almost miraculous, don't you think?" He regarded Antonio through his reading glasses, sliding them further up the bridge of his nose.

"I agree. Couldn't believe it myself actually, but it happened. I just... willed him away I guess." He was still happy about it, but was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to do it if it weren't for Lovino.

Ludwig nodded, craning his neck forward just slightly. "If that is the case, the treatment seems to be highly effective. One month and he has already made himself scarce. Do you believe that you're ready to move on?"

But Antonio's face had turned hard, and he was gone. Apparently 'Spain' had broken his rule about not appearing before psychiatrists. "I'm not fucking going _anywhere_, asshole!"

Though encountering another personality in a split-second, without warning was always slightly disconcerting, Ludwig didn't show it. "Ah. I thought this might be the case. Can Antonio hear us right now, Spain?"

"Why does it matter? I can control him, make it so he can see or not. It's up to me, because he's so weak." Spain leaned back in the chair, putting his feet on the table.

Ludwig's position shifted, his body language far more guarded than before. "It seems to me that he was able to overpower you at least once, though. Doesn't that merit his strength?"

Glaring over at him, Spain growled. "That wasn't anything. I'm still way stronger than him. I can take over whenever the fuck I want." He wanted to prove to this doctor that he could do whatever he wanted, unlike Antonio.

Tapping a pen to his lips, Ludwig eyed 'Spain' with cold calculation. "Unless he is strongly motivated, it seems. What exactly did you do to trigger his overpowering?"

Spain slammed his hands on the desk and stood up. "He didn't do any overpowering! It was a fluke! One time, that's it, it'll never happen again! Besides, I didn't even fucking want to be out because Lovino isn't any fun when he's sick!"

"Humor me, then," Ludwig said without a flinch. "What did you do to Lovino that would cause such a fluke? Did you assault him verbally? Physically?"

"I threw fucking water at him. He deserved it. He's a fucking dick!" He pushed the chair back and started walking to the door. "Screw this, I don't need you. I fucking don't need anyone!"

"You need Antonio," Ludwig said in the deep, strict tone he had used in his former years as a drill sergeant for the German army. He saw Spain's anger boiling in Antonio's veins and knew very well that rage was in itself a great weakness.

_That_ made the personality stop and turn around. "I don't need him! _He_ needs _me_! Do you know how many times I've saved him from bullies, or even his own father? Without me he would be on the streets without a life! I could take over this body if I fucking wanted to, but who the hell wants to deal with all the boring people all the time?"

"But he has grown, Spain. Antonio is an adult. He doesn't need you anymore." He eyed Spain critically. "He is willing to fight you for what he wants. He isn't going to sit back anymore. You know it, and it infuriates you, because you are afraid to disappear. You do not know your place. You aren't real. You are under the control of _Antonio's_ will."

The vase that was by the door was hurled just over Ludwig's head. "That's a fucking lie! I take over every night and he doesn't even know it because _I'm_ the one in control! You don't know anything, you fucking ass quack!" He stormed out, past the receptionist desk. At the feeling of wide eyes on him, he whirled around to glare ferociously. "I should fucking punch your _face _in so you don't look so much like your stupid brother!" Spain hissed. Feliciano froze in the position he was in, watching with wide eyes and a spiked heartbeat as Antonio's normally cheerful face was contorted in a ferocious snarl. A shadow fell over the doorway and "Spain" sent it a dirty look before stomping off toward the elevator.

With wobbly legs, he stood and stumbled over to Ludwig when the elevator bell sounded.

The German sighed when he looked up at his secretary. "I hate it when they leave early. Why can't they just stick to the schedule?" He could see that Feliciano was clearly shaken up, so he gestured for him to come closer. "It seems that we both just met 'Spain'. Are you alright?"

Feliciano stumbled into Ludwig's broad chest, his entire body shaking. "D-do you think he'll come back?" he asked quietly, his eyes wide and fearful. "I don't want him to, Ludwig, I don't!"

"I doubt it. He was pretty angry, and from what Antonio has told me he probably has gone to a bar, looking for a drink or a fight. Or both." He awkwardly rubbed Feliciano's back, knowing it was a traumatic experience for him. "Did he say anything to you?"

"T-that... that he wanted to... oooh, Ludwig, I don't want him to punch my face in! That sounds so painful!" He peeked over his shoulder, jumping a little when the water cooler made a noise.

Ludwig thought about that, wondering why 'Spain' would say that to an innocent bystander. He ducked his head and tried to take Feliciano's mind from it. "He won't, don't worry. Now, we have thirty-two minutes before the next appointment, we should make use of this time. Is there any paperwork that needs doing?"

The Italian looked up at Ludwig, his lower lip wobbling dangerously. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he stopped, stumbling back. He turned away, doing his best to discretely wipe at the wetness in his eyes. "O-oh, okay, um, t-there's..." He shuffled around to his desk, rifling blindly through the papers there with trembling fingers. "It's somewhere in here, I promise, I... I'm sorry, I'll find it in just a minute..."

With Feliciano waving his butt at him, the psychiatrist changed his mind. There were other ways to distract a Nervous Nelly. "You know, I have already scheduled time for paperwork. We can spend the thirty minutes doing something else." He stood up and stood right behind his secretary, arm going around him possessively. Feliciano jumped a little, the flustered expression on his face morphing from one of anxiety to one of something distinctly more naughty (though still a bit baffled). "Ve, Ludwig, does talking to scary people get you excited?"

"No, _you _get me excited," the German responded easily, his hands already sliding up Feliciano's shirt.

Feliciano's shivers were pleasant this time when they tingled down his spine, and he turned around, wrapping his fingers around Ludwig's tie. "Mmm... I should call Lovi," he murmured, humming happily when Ludwig's big, strong hands lifted him onto his own desk by his rear. When that hot mouth attached itself to his neck, he sighed in contentment. Wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders, Feliciano dug around in his pocket for his phone. "... but I think I'll just text."

* * *

><p>He knew he was hopelessly drunk, but hadn't had a single drop to drink. That had been 'Spain', and now Antonio was left with the aftereffects. The hangover, the bruises, the full-body fatigue. He stumbled to the bathroom sink to wash the drying flakes of blood off his bruised knuckles. He didn't know if Lovino was home, didn't even think enough to check if his car was there. All he knew was that he hadn't beaten this, wasn't close at all.<p>

"For the love of... fucking hell."

From the doorway Lovino inhaled sharply, taking in the sight with wide eyes. His lips parted. "You look like shit."

Antonio didn't look up from the sink, not wanting to see Lovino, how disappointed he must be. He had been getting better! And then 'Spain' came out in the middle of a meeting, and he was helpless to do anything about it. His roommate would obviously figure out what happened, and he would ask why he didn't just stop him again, and he wouldn't have an answer.

"Fuck," he muttered, stepping into the room, "fuck fuck fuck. Fuck that bastard piece of _shit._ Let me see your fucking hands."

But Antonio shook his head and tried to hide his hands, body swaying with all the alcohol coursing through his veins. He doesn't want Lovino to touch him, because he was a failure, he wasn't as strong as the Italian wanted him to be, he wasn't strong enough to stop 'Spain from doing all of this. "I-I'm sorry, sorry so sorry..."

Lovino watched as the Spaniard began to sink to the floor and dropped to his knees, taking him by the wrists. He opened and closed his mouth, grimacing. His tone softened marginally. "Your apology isn't worth shit if there's nothing to apologize for, so shut the fuck up and let me see your hands."

That made the Spaniard stop and open up his hands. "I couldn't stop him, not like I did on Saturday. He just... took over, and he yelled at Dr. Weilschmidt, and then he yelled at your brother... He said he came out every night." Antonio looked up at Lovino, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Lovino only froze for a split second before he continued his examination. "It doesn't matter what he _says,_" Lovino grumbled, reaching into the cabinet under the sink for his first aid kit, unscrewing the lid of the antiseptic. "It's what that crazy fuck _does_ that's the problem. Don't flinch, bastard."

"I'm sorry if he... if he's... he hasn't done anything to you, has he?" It made it even worse, knowing that 'Spain' could control him so much so that he didn't know when he took over. What if one day he just never let him back out? It would be like he just vanished, like his whole personality was just gone forever.

"Nothing irreversible or unforgivable," Lovino said tersely, blowing on the bubbling wounds. He turned the hand over and did the same for the other side. "Don't beat yourself up about it, bastard... Antonio. Hey. Look at me." He frowned. "I mean it."

Antoniolooked up, eyes more watery than usual. "I should leave. You don't need all this trouble, and this obviously isn't working, so maybe I should just leave."

If he hadn't been startled before, he was now. "You can't!" At Antonio's questioning gaze he balked. "I... I mean... you signed the contract. Do you want to break the law? Fuck." He pulled out a little bottle of salve and dabbed it directly on the wounds and a gauze bandage and began wrapping Antonio's hand.

"But if he hurts you... I'll never be able to forgive myself." Antonio winced a bit when his knuckles burned, but the pain dulled quickly and now his hands were all wrapped up. There would be questions at work tomorrow, because if he left the gauze on or took it off it was pretty obvious what it was from. But it wasn't like they were questions he hadn't answered before.

"If he hurts me, you're going to break out of his fucking hold and save me. I don't care if you don't like the analogy; what you did the other day was the epitome of motherfucking heroism, so don't you try to tell me you can't beat him. I saw you do it once. You can do it again."

A shaky smile appeared on Antonio's face at that, but it fell. "But today I was just as powerless as always. I couldn't do anything. Maybe that was a fluke, like he says; maybe it didn't happen like we think it did. You were sick, I wasn't thinking straight."

"You _were _thinking straight. You wanted to..." He swallowed, looking down at Antonio's fingers to hide his red face, "... s-save me, and you did. I think if you want something bad enough, you'll beat Spain for it." Stroking the fingers idly, he peeked up. "He's a bully, Antonio. If you don't stand up to him, he'll just walk all over you until there's nothing left."

Looking into his eyes, Antonio felt much better. "Thank you." It may have been the unspecified amount of liquor coursing through his veins, but he took his hands out of Lovino's grasp and wrapped them around him, pulling him in for a warm hug. Lovino's eyes widened and he wondered then why he couldn't find it in himself to struggle. In fact, just the opposite... slowly, he found himself leaning into the embrace, his eyelids lowering.

"Yeah, yeah. As long as that pussy understands it like you do."

* * *

><p>Soon, Antonio was just as happy as always, smiling his normal smile. Over the next couple of months, there were a few times that 'Spain' would come out, but not as often as he used to. Dr. Weilschmidt said that this was a good sign, that maybe if he stayed with Lovino even longer than they could keep the other personality at bay forever.<p>

They still hadn't gone out on an actual date, but they did things like going to the movies, going out for dinner, and various other things that Antonio could pester Lovino into with begging and bribery.

The Italian made no moves and kept his feelings for Antonio, the ones that grew more and more sickeningly fond with each passing day, at bay. He couldn't say there hadn't been close calls, though; after a few near-kisses and almost-gropes, he had made the rule that they could not both drink at the same time, and had no trouble enforcing it. Antonio was so damn cuddly, though, that after a while, it was just too tiring to try and keep him away, so nights were spent either playing cards, baking, gardening in the comfortable night air, or just lounging around watching television. The Spaniard almost always found a way to touch Lovino, and with tight lips and warm cheeks, the Italian did his best to pretend that he minded.

It was on a calm spring night that they were gardening, the moonlight shining down on the balcony of their apartment. Dirt was wedged tight under their nails and they held big juicy tomatoes in their hands. Antonio caressed one of them, poking at a dimple it had. Somehow that little imperfection made it lovely. He showed it to Lovino. "Isn't it so cute? I think I should take a picture of it."

Lovino scoffed, rubbing above his eyebrow with the back of his hand, effectively smearing a streak of dark soil across his forehead. "Why? You gonna blog about a dimpled tomato?"

"No, I just think it's the cutest thing. Doesn't it look cute?" He grinned and turned the red vegetable around in his hand. Yes, he would like a picture of it. "Maybe you could paint it!"

"As if I don't have enough tomato paintings already," he replied, rolling his eyes. The bright full moon dusted everything in a silver glow, and the tomatoes looked blood red against the deep, dark leaves. He dug his fingers in one of the many, many pots, feeling the soil deep down to gauge the retained moisture. "I think I'm gonna plant a few more," he mumbled to himself, glancing over his shoulder at the two small, empty pots in that took up what little space there was left in the balcony. As it was, there was barely enough room for one person to garden, much less two. He huffed irritably. "Or not. Fuck. I hate metropolitan areas. I want a home for a real fucking garden."

Antonio looked around as well, and smiled as he saw the hanging plant that Lovino had gotten at the farmer's market. It gave him an idea. "You could get hanging tomato plants. They wouldn't take up much room here, so we could have more." Even though they already had quite enough tomatoes to keep them happy, he could always incorporate more into the meals.

"I don't need another damned tomato enthusiast to egg me on, you bastard," he said, pretending with all that he had that he wasn't actually considering the option. He glanced up at the hanging goldfish plant and squinted. "... do you think we should?"

"Well... maybe we could plant other things. We have a lot of tomatoes already, but other fresh vegetables would be nice." Antonio grinned and looked at his roommate. He noticed a streak of dirt on his forehead, and leaned forward so he could rub it out with his sleeve. "Don't flinch, I'm just getting some dirt off your face."

"I-! I didn't flinch, you bastard!" he argued, remaining still nonetheless. "Besides, what else am I supposed to do when your huge fucking hand is coming right at me in the dark?"

The Spaniard laughed deeply, only just realizing how close they were. They were both on their knees, legs touching, and he was leaning forward to see the dirt in the low light. He could smell Lovino's aftershave, most definitely a pricey Italian brand, and it was mixed with the scent of rich soil. It was a smell he would never forget.

Lovino's spiteful tongue stilled and he then noticed how awfully loud the crickets were singing, how the early summer breeze rustled in the leaves of his little tomato forest, how fantastically green Antonio's eyes were. He swallowed, remaining perfectly still. "Y... you're awfully close, tomato bastard," he said softly, breath hitching in his throat.

The cute tomato was placed on the ground unconsciously, because Antonio was only paying attention to the Italian. "Do you mind me being this close?"

Lovino could smell Antonio on the breeze, warm and clean and familiar and for once, he couldn't find any awful doubts or his own shortcomings. He could only think of Antonio. "I haven't pushed you away, have I? Dumbass."

"No, you haven't." Antonio gave a lazy smile, and went forward, kissing just the corner of Lovino's mouth. Yes, they had kissed briefly when they were both extremely drunk, but this time they were both very aware of the other's lips.

Lovino waited for more and when Antonio only pulled back a little, he frowned, his lips forming what definitely was _not_ a pout. "What the fuck was that?" His dirty hands lifted, fingers spread along Antonio's neck as he held him still and surged up to give him a _real _kiss.

Antonio heard no complaints when he slowly licked along Lovino's lips and dipped inside when he opened his mouth. He had tried to take it slower, but this was just as nice. The taller of the two slid an arm around Lovino, holding protectively at the small of his back, pulling him closer. Making a noise at the loss of balance in the precarious position, Lovino toppled over against Antonio, squeezing him tightly. "Don't fall on the tomatoes!" he said, trying to maneuver the both of them out of the way. Somehow his hands and arms went akimbo and he ended up in a horizontal heap beside Antonio. Staring wide-eyed at the Spaniard, the corners of his lips twitched. "You've got a leaf in your hair."

He pat at his brown locks, locating the leaf. "Thanks. Um, sorry about that..." Antonio looked around just to make sure that nothing had been broken or anything, and was happy when he saw that his dimpled tomato was still perfectly intact.

Lovino's fingers halted halfway to Antonio's face. Unfortunately, the Italian had taken the actions to be an abashed, shameful sort of way of saying, _Sorry I kissed you, it was my mistake, let's forget all about it._ The familiar scowl was instantly back on his face and he curled his fingers, pulling them back against his chest. "Whatever. I-it's not a big deal."

"Yeah, I guess I should have known you would fall like that. You're not hurt, are you?" Antonio got up on his knees and leaned closer to make sure that he wasn't actually hurt, hadn't hit his head or anything. "I kinda ruined the whole first kiss thing didn't I?"

Lovino frowned at the plant to his left. "You shouldn't say 'first' if you don't want to do it again, stupid bastard." Not that he was even really bothered by it. There were plenty of men in the world who were kind enough to tolerate him and smelled nice and had great fucking accents and had r-really soft lips and loved tomatoes as much as he did.

The silly smile on Antonio's face fell away. "What? Do you not want to kiss again? Oh, sorry I just thought..."

"Me?" Lovino cried, his voice definitely _not_ cracking. "Fuck! _You're _the one w-who r-regrets it, fucking bastard..."

"I don't regret it! I thought it was very nice actually, and- ah, have been thinking of it for a while now." Antonio finished quietly, looking down a bit. "I thought you felt the same."

Lovino's eyes were on him in a split second, bewildered and... and something else. Startled. Suspicious. Hopeful. "... You've thought about... about... that?" he asked quietly, almost in disbelief. "Why?"

"Well, why not? We both like men, we both love tomatoes, we get along well together, we have similar interests, you know about my other personality and aren't scared off, and besides I really... _really_ like you." Antonio looked up at him, giving a small smile. "You are what I always imagined as my soul mate, even if you yell at me sometimes." He didn't mind though, because he knew now that Lovino didn't really mean it when he yelled.

Lovino fought to keep his frown, feeling something inside of him constrict. "D... don't mess with me," he said softly, swearing and glaring at Antonio and trying not to cry. He wanted so desperately to be loved, even though he didn't quite know what to do with it if he was. "If you're lying to me, I'll... I'll kick all of your teeth in and break your guitar, do you hear me?"

Antonio smiled brightly once again, because now he knew that his roommate felt the same way about him. "Why would I lie to you? I mean, you're like... you are..." He looked around, and his eyes finally fell on the tomato. "You are like this tomato. If we hadn't cared for it, then it never would have grown to be this big. And it's not perfect, because it has a dimple, but this imperfection is exactly what makes me love it even more."

"Are you calling me a fat tomato?" he said tersely to hide his pleasure. Antonio was dumb as a rock, but he was honest, and Lovino's expression softened. He propped himself up on his elbows before Antonio could stupidly protest and kissed him again, this time a slow, chaste touch of lips.

When they pulled away, Antonio opened his eyes. "So I guess this means you like me too?"

"I like your food," Lovino said stubbornly. He fiddled with the top button of Antonio's shirt idly. "Fishing for compliments, are we?"

Antonio blinked and then laughed. "No, just making sure that we were on the same page." He leaned forward again, stealing another kiss. It had been so long since he had done this, it just felt so good. One of his hands went to Lovino's shirt, sneaking under to touch heated skin.

Lovino may have made a very small noise at that, pleasantly working Antonio's lower lip between his teeth. He didn't mind the touching and the kissing and the licking, but when that big, warm, sneaky hand made its way down to his fly, he broke away, shoving the Spaniard back. "Hey!"

Eyes wide, Antonio found that he was breathing a bit hard. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Fuck, you're such a... a... a teenager!" He blushed, straightening his shirt. "You don't fuck right after you confess! What kind of shit plan is that?"

"Oh... I wasn't really thinking, I'm sorry." Antonio looked down for a second, but then looked back up. "But does that mean that maybe, eventually, you would want to?" Because if he said yes, they would pretty much be dating!

"Not until I'm properly wooed, motherfucker," Lovino said and stood, stretching his limbs.

At that Antonio stood and held out his hand, masking his disappointment and excitement. "It's getting late, we should both go to bed." Even though he would mostly be thinking of ways to woo Lovino, though the main problem was that thing he would usually do would be laughed at by the Italian. He couldn't imagine flowers or chocolates going over well.

Taking Antonio's hand he turned his red face away, scowling at the goldfish plant. "... The first step to getting into my pants is... is..." But he quickly lost his nerve. "Fuck, never mind."

"What? Tell me, please! If you tell me, tomorrow I will make whatever you want for dinner, even if it takes me hours!" Of course he didn't like how that made him sound, because he didn't really want to 'get into his pants', he would much rather 'further their relationship'. They were essentially the same thing, but the second implied that he wanted more than just sex.

Lovino turned his scowl to Antonio and hissed, "Keep your voice down! I've got bitchy neighbors." The hesitance returned shortly thereafter and he shifted his weight onto one foot, glancing down at his hand in Antonio's. "... y-you have to sleep with me without trying to bone me."

Suddenly Antonio was very quiet. He was looking everywhere but at Lovino. For the last few minutes, he had been so happy that it had seemed like a different life, but he was brought back to earth. He had figured that for 'Spain' to come out almost every night, he would have done it when he was asleep. If he was sleeping right beside Lovino, then what would happen if his alternate personality came out suddenly?

The silence would have worried Lovino if he didn't know that look like the back of his hand. Even in the dim light of the moon it was obvious. He stepped a little closer, his hand tightening around Antonio's. "Remember when I was sick and you kicked that bitch out?" he said quietly, his thumb resting on Antonio's wrist.

"But if he blocks me again, I won't even know that he's doing anything," Antonio said just as quietly, turning his hand so he could hold onto Lovino's fingers. "I don't want him to hurt you."

He wondered if he could even allow himself to be affectionate with Antonio, and in any other circumstance, he'd probably just push the bastard away, but when it came to Spain, Antonio needed all the support Lovino could give... even if he wasn't very good at being comforting. So before he could dissuade himself, the Italian rested his head against Antonio's shoulder and closed his eyes. "He has the ability to come into my room any night, but I... fuck." His voice grew quiet, abashed. "But I only want you. S-so I trust you to keep him out. That's what good boyfriends do, isn't it?"

Antonio was silent for a few seconds, before giving a little smile and kissing him lightly. "You have too much faith in me. But how can I say no after you just said that?" So they were officially boyfriends, because Lovino had said so. He felt his heart melt at the smaller's words.

"Shut the fuck up, you sappy bastard," he mumbled, burying his face into Antonio's shoulder. "W-we have to wash up. I'm not getting dirt on my white sheets."

They went to the bathroom to get all the dirt off their hands and wherever else it had gotten. Antonio was done first, so he said he would go get changed. "I guess I'll be coming back though, if you're sure about me sleeping with you tonight."

"If you keep bitching about it," Lovino said around his toothbrush, "then you won't have the _privilege_ of sleeping with me."

So, before he lost said privilege, Antonio quickly went to get changed and went across the hall to Lovino's room. The door was closed, so he knocked on it in case he hadn't finished changing. After all, they had only just gotten together.

From inside Lovino called irritably, "I said you have to woo me, not treat me like some pussy-ass virgin."

"That's kind of a difficult distinction to make," Antonio said as he walked in. It was then that he remembered that when sick, Lovino had told him that he didn't have any pajamas. A fact now evident since he was about to get in the bed, wearing only a pair of black boxers.

Lovino gave him a dry look as he paused in his motions. "What the fuck are you looking at?" he asked, taking in Antonio's odd expression.

That kicked the Spaniard back into gear. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting you to be... well..." And it had been Lovino complaining when he tried to undo his fly! Now he was expected to sleep right next to a practically naked guy that he was incredibly attracted to and not get an erection or else he would be likely kicked out of the bed and possibly the house.

"What? Ready for bed?" The Italian chucked a pillow at his head, huffing when it was caught. "Turn the light off."

Yes, maybe that would help. If he couldn't see Lovino, then he couldn't get an erection from how he looked. But as soon as he turned off the light he saw the flaw in this plan, mainly the fact that the full moon was lighting the whole room with silver rays. It made the Italian's skin seem as if it was actually glowing. He made his way to the bed, glad that it was big. "Do you always sleep with the window open?"

"Is that a problem?" the Italian huffed, wriggling comfortably under the thin covers. He squinted over at Antonio's hunched form. "What the fuck are you doing all the way over there?"

"Oh, I just thought you would like to stretch out. You seem like you enjoy having your space." Truth be told, his private parts were already starting to react. If he jerked off, it would be around this time of night, and he hadn't done it for a while, but if Lovino saw or -oh God- _felt_ that he was hard, Antonio really doubted that he would be given the chance to explain.

This only served to irk Lovino. "Why the fuck would I invite you into my bed if I wanted _space_, dipshit?" He huffed and rolled over, his back to the Spaniard. "If you really can't stand the idea of getting any closer than that, you can leave."

He paused a minute before placing his arm around Lovino's waist. He just had to make sure that he didn't get so hard that the Italian would feel it or stiffened a bit at the contact, his face (and maybe his heart) warming. Slowly Lovino relaxed, his body tentatively falling back against Antonio's. "... I thought you'd be more chatty."

"I can talk if you want to. You have very smooth skin. Do you moisturize? I really like the paint colour you used in here. At work today I watched a father explain to his kid where babies come from. What did you do today?" If his mind was on something else then maybe he wouldn't get hard.

"The fuck!" Lovino exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at Antonio. "What am I supposed to respond to?"

Antonio took a breath and paused. "It doesn't matter really. Do you think you would like making any more paintings right now? Have any ideas?" It still wasn't helping much, because no matter what he did he was still lying in bed with a practically naked Lovino.

The Italian nestled his head back into his pillow just after shooting Antonio an incredulous look. "Right now, as in, right _now_?" he said. "Like... one-in-the-fucking-morning now?"

"No, not right now, that's crazy. Wow, is it really that late? We should get to sleep." If he was asleep then he could blame it on his dreams. He couldn't control those, after all.

"You're acting kinda jumpy. What's the matter?" He caught himself speaking in an improperly calm tone and made himself terse. "Not that I care or anything. I just want to know if Spain's not the only crazy fuck here."

This was getting difficult, especially when Lovino half turned around, his butt making the blankets and such move between them. "I'm fine, just tired is all, I swear. In fact when I'm so tired my body some times does weird things that are completely beyond my control so if something happens, it's not my fault."

Rolling his eyes, Lovino snuggled deeper under the covers and closed them soundly. "Whatever. If you wet my bed, I'm going to give you hell for the rest of your life."

Antonio waited until he was pretty sure that Lovino had gone to sleep. To make sure, he took his arm off him and whispered in his ear "Are you asleep?"

He received no response, so he went over to the other size of the bed. A cold shower would be good, but Lovino would definitely wake up at the noise. Maybe if he just went into the bathroom and jerked off…

A while later, Antonio departed the bathroom, satisfied. He felt really guilty, especially with Lovino popping into his head at the last moment. But now at least nothing would happen. As Antonio climbed back into bed, Lovino stirred, mumbling something deep in sleep. When the Spaniard unfroze himself and sank back under the covers, Lovino groaned quietly, rolling over dangerously close to the edge of the bed. "Mmnh... b'st'rd..."

Carefully placing his arm back around Lovino, Antonio pulled him closer to himself. He was sure that he just spoke in his sleep, which was pretty cute when he thought about it.

Humming softly, the Italian curled into the warmth, his face pressed into Antonio's neck. "'Tonio," he breathed against it, perhaps recognizing the scent even in slumber.

Antonio looked down in surprise, but the Italian's eyes were still closed and his breathing was still regular. But then why had he just said his name? Unless... Was Lovino dreaming about him? And he was being so affectionate in his sleep, maybe he was dreaming about them cuddling or something. How adorable!

At the sudden tightening of the grip around him Lovino's brow furrowed. He made a noise of protest, his body wriggling against Antonio's as a means of escape.

Immediately Antonio let go, worrying that he had hurt Lovino in some way. But his face went back to calm, so he carefully placed his arm back where it was, keeping it loose. Hopefully he could get to sleep at all, unlikely though it seemed. Lovino parted his lips, relaxing in Antonio's hold. Just as the poor Spaniard was floating on the brink of sleep, Lovino's body spasmed. "Don't eat that!" he cried.

Eyes wide open, Antonio jerked back. Oh God… this was going to be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

Lovino woke the next morning feeling far more refreshed than he had in years. The sun coming through the sheer curtains was warm on his skin and he was situated comfortably against... against...

"Holy great fuck," he mumbled. His body was about as close to Antonio's as two people could get without fucking and... shit. Yep, that was his boner right against Antonio's stomach.

Luckily the Spaniard was still sleeping but _fuck._

_Un_luckily, Antonio woke up when there was a shift in the bed, and saw Lovino standing up. He must have still been half asleep, because he was oddly hunched. "Morning," he said with a stretch, and then grinned. "Sugar."

Whipping his head around to give Antonio a burning glare Lovino pressed his knees together in an attempt to perhaps disguise the embarrassment between his thighs. "S-sugar?"

"Mm, oh _yes_. Last night you were talking in your sleep and at one point you asked me to call you _Sugar_." Antonio sat up in the bed, stretching his arms out and giving a yawn. "It was really cute, so how could I say no?"

"D-don't lie to me!" he said once he had been able to pick his jaw up off the floor. "I would never say a thing like that! I don't want you to give me any fucking pet names, you bastard!"

Antonio was laughing and moved over to the edge of the bed. "Oh, but you _did_ say it. And you said my name a few times, along with something about cookies. What were you dreaming about?"

"I..." He faltered, eying Antonio suspiciously. "This isn't some weird plot to get me to concede to your inane... w-why are you moving?"

"Just standing up. And I should give you a shoulder massage because you look like you slept wrong." He was still hunched over and it looked painful.

"Mas- no! You can't!" he insisted, expertly dodging Antonio's attempts to touch him.

Still trying to get him to stay still, Antonio gave a laugh. "I'll be gentle, don't worry. Remember, I'm a physiotherapist so I know what I'm doing."

Well... that was true... Lovino weighed the options. Dash off to the bathroom for a cold shower and maintain his dignity, or throw all pride to the wind and let the hands that healed work their magic on his body... a thought that wasn't helping at all... Comfort or pride, comfort or pride, comfort or _wow that felt good._

You know what? Balls to dignity.

Lovino found himself being pulled slowly back to the bed, sitting in front of Antonio.

Antonio started working on the tense muscles, finding a few knots. "Just relax, come on. It will feel better if you relax." He was used to dealing with small kids that didn't want to listen, so he knew pretty well what to do.

"I _am_ fucking relaxed," Lovino mumbled, his eyelids drooping. Antonio's voice was just... way too deep and smooth for its own good. And his hands... fuck, his _hands._ A noise of (what only _might _have been!) pleasure rumbled low in Lovino's throat as those fucking brilliant thumbs pressed between his shoulder blades.

Antonio rolled his eyes. "If you're relaxed, then why are you so tense? Don't tell me that you are like this all the time. No wonder you have so many knots." A bit of physiotherapy would help him a great deal. Maybe they could work on that when they were home.

"Oi, don't turn into Dr. Carriedo back there," Lovino growled, his head lolling back a bit. "If you want to be my doctor, you can just go fuck yourself."

"I don't want to be your doctor, because that's not my job. I'm just saying that you should loosen up some more." There was one knot that was being very stubborn, he had to really work at it before it finally was gone.

"Ow!" Lovino complained, glaring over his shoulder. Thanks to that sudden jolt of deep muscle pain, his erection had wilted considerably. "Damn, Antonio. What the fuck happened to gentle and thorough?"

He bent down a bit and kissed the skin over that spot. "Sorry. You'll thank me tomorrow though." Antonio was pretty much done with his shoulders, so he lightly guided Lovino so that he was lying face down on the bed. "I'm just going to work on your back a little."

"H-hey, what does... is that some kind of weird physical therapist come-on?" the Italian said, flailing minutely into the mattress.

"What do you mean? I'm just massaging your... oh no I didn't mean it that way!" Antonio took his hands off and bit his lip. "I'm not trying to come on to you or anything. And it's your fault for only wearing boxers to bed!" He must have noticed how hard he was last night or else why would he say something like that?

"Hey," Lovino said seriously, propping up on his elbows. "Hey now. I normally don't sleep in _anything. _I did that for _your_ fucking benefit."

Antonio's face flushed with colour. "You... you mean that you sleep... in _this bed_, naked, and I slept in it last night with you?" Oh God… that was not a good thought to be having so early in the morning. He wasn't sure to want to take a shower or be aroused.

Lovino knew he shouldn't have been as flustered as he was at Antonio's surprise. "I-it's my bed! I can wear or not wear what I want in it! And what kind of pussy doesn't want to sleep in the bed his l... lov... significant other has been naked in? I shower at night, so it's not unsanitary or anything."

"Well we only really got together last night. And unless you call us lovers, then it must not mean much to you." Antonio once against started massaging his back, since it really needed to be done. Lovino pouted, his lower lip jutting out as he rested his chin on his folded arms. He wasn't going to take the bait- fuck no. It was embarrassing as hell to say the "L" word. "Come on, if you say we're lovers, I'll... do whatever you want. For a whole day." Antonio started nuzzling Lovino's neck, leaning over his back as he worked at all the muscles. He just really wanted to hear that they were lovers. It would be just the cutest thing ever coming from the elder Vargas.

Lovino blushed down to the curves of his shoulders, his skin tingling at the affections. "D-don't you think it's embarrassing?" he said, his voice cracking.

"What, saying that we're lovers? No, I don't. We're in a relationship right? So we're lovers." It just made sense to him. He wasn't sure why Lovino would find it embarrassing.

"B-but... but it's fucking mortifying to say... that." Lovino buried his face into the pillow in front of him to hide it from Antonio, as if the Spaniard didn't already have a full view of the very pink tips of his ears.

Antonio ran his finger's through the Italian's soft brown hair. "I'm saying it, aren't I? Plus, there is no one else here, just you and me. Well, and..." 'Spain', he added in his mind. What would 'Spain' think of this whole thing? As long as he didn't hurt Lovino... The Italian heard the silent space where the source of Antonio's anxiety lay and slowly fought gravity, lifting his head and rolling over onto his back to look up at Antonio. "Hey," he chastised softly, his frown slight. "When you're with me, don't think about that. Don't think about anyone else. We're fucking... l-lovers, dammit."

That was all it took for Antonio to cheer up. He gave Lovino a big hug, pulling him up from the bed. "Oh thank you! Yes, we _are_ lovers! I love it when you say that." It just sounded so _cute_ coming from him.

"Hey!" Lovino protested, his fingers gripping the back of Antonio's shirt tightly. Just for support, of course, nothing more. "Don't shit a rainbow every time I say something stupid."

He still held him close, because it felt good to be able to do so. "It wasn't stupid. Okay, I said I would do anything you wanted for a whole day, so do you want to start today or some other day?" Fair was fair after all, Lovino said lovers, so he would keep his end of the deal as well.

Lovino found himself lax in Antonio's arms. If he had been a more honest person, if he had just a little more self esteem, he could have voiced his feelings; he could have told Antonio just to stay like that all day, holding him, touching him, making him say things too sweet to say to anybody else. But he wasn't and he didn't, so he mumbled into Antonio's shoulder, "I'm going to teach you how to make real Italian food. I'm sick of all the Spanish crap."

"It's not crap, it's really good food- you say so yourself. But that isn't really something you do when you have a slave for a day. Are you sure?" He stopped hugging him, because Lovino looked a bit uncomfortable.

Lovino pouted only slightly at the loss of contact before sliding out of bed. "What the fuck else would I want from you? Bitch, cooking's all you're good for. Now get in the kitchen." He watched Antonio rise from the bed and stroked his chin. "And take off your pants. I want you good and humiliated."

He slowly pushed down his pants, and let them fall to the floor. "Can I have a shower first? I haven't had one since yesterday morning and I would feel much better if I was clean."

Feeling benevolent, Lovino agreed. "Fine. I'm taking one too," he said warningly as Antonio stepped toward the bathroom adjoined to his room, "so unless you want to shower with my ghastly naked self, you'd better get to your own fucking bathroom."

"Well... I wouldn't mind showering with you. And you're pretty sexy, so don't keep putting yourself down like that." He reached out and lightly grabbing Lovino's wrist, rubbing it with his thumb.

A flush of pleasure rose on Lovino's face so he turned, attempting to scowl it away. "Y-you were the one who was so appalled by sleeping in my bed after finding out that I sleep naked..."

He pulled him closer, putting an arm around Lovino's back. "That's just because it isn't very clean, not because you don't look good naked. And you beside me in only boxers isn't very helpful when I'm trying to sleep."

"I normally shower at night, dammit!" Ducking his head, too flustered to look Antonio in the eye, the Italian for once had difficulty finding a way to reply. "And w... what does that mean?"

"It means that you shouldn't put yourself down like that, because no matter what you say, you're sexy, and I'm attracted to both your body and your personality." They would have to work on his self esteem issues, because he would always say things like he just accepted that he was ugly or something, when he was exactly the opposite.

It was... different. When Lovino had ever said something about himself like that to an old boyfriend, the responses he received would either be automatic denial and void of meaning, or being ignored, as if his annoying little confidence problem would just go away in time. Antonio's tone was so... insistent. Lovino made a noise and pushed him back a little before stepping close again and pulling him down for a kiss. "... You can take a shower with me," he mumbled, "and we'll see where we go from there."

The Spaniard held him with a small grin. "Is that an order? Because I'm your slave for the whole day." He wrapped an arm around Lovino's back and pulled him even closer. They were going to have a shower together! This was even more than he could have ever hoped for.

"W-whatever, just get in the motherfucking bathroom. You smell like dirt." And tomatoes and that sweet, spiced Antonio-scent that Lovino had trouble badmouthing at such a close proximity. He pushed the Spaniard in and turned the shower on so that the water could heat up while he brushed his teeth. Around the toothbrush he said to Antonio, "I like my showers scalding. Since I gave you fair warning, don't scream like a pussy when you get in."

He had gone to get his own toothbrush, and was back in just in time to hear what he said. "Alright, that's fine. As long as it doesn't burn." He could already see the steam coming out of the shower, but if that was what he had to put up with to shower with Lovino, then he would do it.

"Good boy." After spitting and rinsing, Lovino waited for Antonio to be distracted by unscrewing the toothpaste before slipping the underwear down his legs (it was a nonsensical self-consciousness he knew, but what the fuck did that matter?) and hopping into the shower. He flinched a little at the initial heat but quickly succumbed, sifting his hands through his hair to soak it thoroughly.

Once he was finished brushing his teeth, Antonio took a breath and undressed. He could hear Lovino in the shower, knowing that he was now fully naked. They both were. He stepped towards the shower and put his hand on the handle. "I'm coming in, okay?"

Squirting some shampoo into his hand, Lovino tried not to tense as he rolled his eyes. "Are you going to announce every move you make?"

"I just wanted you to know." He opened the steamed up door to the shower and stepped inside. Antonio couldn't help looking down and seeing Lovino's shaft, half hard and hanging between his legs. It... looked so cute! And somehow the head reminded him of the dimpled tomato from last night, red and thick and ripe as it was.

Conveniently, Lovino had not noticed the rapt attention. His eyes were fiercely closed so as to allow no soap or visions of disappointment access to them. Terrible experiences, you know. He rinsed the unarguably masculine citrus shampoo from his hair and face, and in the process accidentally stumbled into Antonio.

His hands instinctively went up to hold Lovino in place. "Are you alright? You almost fell there."

"Yeah, I'm f..." Words escaped him when he felt something very... very hard against his abdomen. Well. All words except, "Holy fuck," and, "you have a boner."

"Well, what do you expect! I'm only a man." Antonio made sure that Lovino was steady again and turned away. "And you can't kick me out because it's your fault. I swear I'm not having any dirty thoughts, it just sees something it likes and reacts." It would also help if the water was cold, and not burning hot.

Lovino liked to pretend that the red covering his body was from the intensity of the heat of the water and not the heat crawling up from deep inside him. He turned too, not one to be outdone. "O-oh yeah? Well... well if it's not going to take action, it should just settle the fuck down."

The taller brunet grabbed the shampoo bottle since Lovino was done with it. "What do you mean take action? It's not like it can jump off and start running around. Just ignore it and it'll go away." But seriously, why was he getting hard just by seeing another man naked? He wasn't some teenager, after all.

Lovino's second eyeroll of the morning was so intense it almost hurt. "If you're really _that_ fucking clueless, it's no wonder you get along so well with kids. You're _one _of them," he muttered, scrubbing furiously at his body with a very manly loofah sponge.

"What do you mean? Do you want it to do something?" He didn't want to ask if Lovino was implying something sexual, because if he wasn't then Antonio would probably be going to work with a nice black eye on Monday.

"Fuck, talking about it like it's some kind of... pet is just too fucking weird," he said snappily, conveniently avoiding the question.

Antonio gave a laugh and decided just to wait to rinse out his hair till the Italian was finished under the spray of water. "Okay, then let me rephrase. Do you want _me_ to do something with it?"

The Italian jerked around so furiously that it made him dizzy for a moment. "W-why would I want that... w-whatever you're implying?"

"I'm only implying what I think you were implying. Sorry if I was wrong." Maybe he could wash his back to get out of being in trouble. "But I am your slave today, so I will do anything you want me to, of course."

Lovino's expression calmed just slightly and he cleared his throat, very pointedly not looking at... _that._ "T-then... as your master, I want you to tell me... what you might want to do... i-if I would let you, of course."

Antonio glanced down, and saw that Lovino's cock was also slowly rising. "Well, what I would really want to do would be to... ah, suck you off." It had just been so long since he'd had a shaft in his mouth, and he figured that if it was pleasuring him then Lovino might actually let him do it.

The Italian's sensitive cock twitched at the thought. "F-fuck," he whispered, turning back around to hide his face. "Your imagination sucks," he said weakly, unable to find anything truly negative to say about that.

"Well, you asked what I wanted to do. But I also wouldn't mind washing your body, because that's what slaves do right?" He grabbed a luffa and smiled, wondering how long he could go on using that excuse.

Staring intensely at the shower knob he shrugged. "... Your master can't complain."

Even so, he flinched very slightly when the rough sponge began soaping slow circles at the small of his back.

"My master has very soft skin." Antonio was still smiling, and let his hand run through the suds on said skin. Soon he was finished with his back. "Can you turn around? Master," he added, because it was just too much fun saying that.

He moved slowly, his face turned away, avoiding Antonio's eyes like the plague. He definitely didn't notice drops of hot water streaming down Antonio's sculpted, bronzed skin. He didn't notice the pale steam rolling off of him in clouds, framing him in a way-too-sexy, almost unearthly robe.

Antonio started washing his chest, the suds falling lower, and then down the drain. Neither of them spoke as the sponge slowly went lower, to his stomach. Then to his lower stomach... "Do you want me to stop?"

Lovino gave him a look before averting his eyes once more to a bottle of shampoo. "I-if I want you to stop I'll tell you. Bastard."

So he moved the luffa down, where Lovino's coarse hair started. He leaned against the Italian, their wet skin touching, and he watched as the 'cute' cock twitched as he ran the sponge over it. After all, Antonio reasoned, he had to get that area very clean.

The Italian stumbled back until his shoulder blades pressed against the moist shower tiles as he moved his hips into Antonio's touch. "A-Antonio, t-the sponge is too rough..."

"Sorry. I'll use my hand." The sponge was dropped, and he moved the suds around with his fingers, making sure to get between the ball sack and his cock, and the hair around and everywhere that he could. "Does this feel better?"

"_Fuck,_" Lovino sighed, arching up and up into Antonio's hand. "Too good, too fucking good," he moaned, turning his lust-darkened amber eyes to Antonio.

It just was too painful, being this hard with nothing touching him. Antonio moved so that he was standing not even an inch in front of Lovino and put their erections right next to each other, wrapping his fingers around both. "Ah... L-Lovi-"

Whimpering, Lovino reached for Antonio, pulling himself closer using his shoulders as an anchor. He clung to him, his wet hips moving frantically against Antonio's.

Antonio realized then that he didn't need his hand, because the pressure of both of their bodies was more then enough to get them both off. Antonio hid his face in Lovino's shoulder, breathing heavily, thrusting his hips against the other's, and felt a matching erection sliding against his own.

"Fuck. Antonio, _fuck._ Nng." He lifted one leg, draping it over Antonio's thigh. "F-faster-!"

He pushed Lovino up against the side of the shower, and now the water was spraying directly on them. Antonio grabbed the Italian's hips with both hands, pushing their groins together harder and faster. "Lovino, _ah_, I love you!"

As frightened as he was by the words, they did nothing to diminish his erection. So without replying he buried his face in Antonio's hot, wet shoulder and slipped his hand between their bodies, gathering both of the cocks in his fingers and squeezing. Crying out, Antonio shut his eyes and came with a shuddering gasp. A few seconds later, he realized that the cock beside his was also going limp, so he figured that they must have climaxed at the same time. They both stood, panting against each other.

As the hot water washed away all lasting remnants of soap and semen, Lovino caught his breath. And then, quite suddenly, he pushed Antonio back, his face paler than it should have been. "What the flying _fuck, _Antonio?"'

"What? What's wrong? Didn't you like it?" His eyes were wide, worrying he had done something wrong. He had wanted their first sexual experience to be perfect! He didn't want something bad to happen! ...Whatever that something was.

Lovino stumbled out of the shower, propping his trembling arms on the slippery edge of the sink. The sudden movement, thick steam and emotional distress caused nausea to roll through his stomach.

"Are you alright? Lovino... Lovino, come on, look at me. Are you sick or something?" Antonio left the shower as well, not even bothering to turn the water off. He went over to the Italian and put his hand on his back, worried.

"What the _fuck_ makes you think you l-love me?" he said, his tone accusing and aimed toward the center of the sink. The cold air from the vent made him shiver.

Antonio took a second to process the question. In reality, he hadn't realized till now what he had said in the heat of the moment. "That is what this is about? Look, yeah, it was probably stupid of me to say it so early in our relationship, and I don't expect you to say it back, but that's how I feel. If you have a problem with that, then you will have to deal with that yourself."

Consumed with anger, Lovino turned and shoved him, heat prickling the corners of his eyes. He beat his fists against Antonio's chest. "You can't fucking love me, you bastard! I'm... I'm fucking... gnn-!" He stilled his fists, his expression helpless. "You just can't!"

He looked at him with a frown, hands coming up to hold Lovino's against his chest. "I may be crazy and have two personalities, but that doesn't mean I can't love, if that's what you mean. And if you think that I can't love you because of you, then maybe you're the crazy one. Look at me… come on, look at me Lovino. If you have a problem with this, you need to tell me. Please. I want this to work."

But how could he tell Antonio that hearing those three terrible words had never been a natural occurrence when directed at him? That almost every single time it was used was a lie? Why would Antonio love him if no one else had? "There's n-no problem," he said, swallowing thickly. "Just don't... don't say that. Please. Anything but that."

"But it's how I feel! I already said you don't have to say it back, I just want you to know that I love you." He pulled Lovino against his chest and held him there, stroking his wet hair. "Come on, tell me what's wrong. If you tell me then we can deal with this and get past it. You already know that I have an alternate personality, how much worse can your secret be?"

"At least you know what love is, dammit." He didn't want to fight Antonio, didn't want to feel his scorn. Unused to expelling his secrets, it was... difficult to make his mouth form the words buried so deep. It made him more naked than he was on the outside. "I just... I don't... know... fucking hell." Frustration fumbled with his tongue. "It's pathetic as shit, so I get it if you want to laugh or call me a fucking liar, but I've... never been... loved." Lovino winced. The words cut him like shards of glass. He tried to pull out of Antonio's grasp. "Shit. O-okay, I'm done bearing my fucking soul. I'm g-getting dressed."

Antonio wouldn't have any of that though. Mind set, he picked up the small Italian bridal style. "Stop struggling. I don't care about being your slave, I am going to make you feel loved and doted upon and everything." He was headed for the door to the bathroom, and was planning to put Lovino on the bed so that he could make him feel like a king.

Of course, telling him to do so wouldn't make Lovino stop struggling. He was naked and wet and definitely _not_ a fucking girl. "Dammit, Antonio, put me down!"

"I will in a second." He got to the bed and finally put him down. "Alright, stay right here, I'm going to dry you off." Antonio ran into the bathroom and found a towel, and came out to see Lovino getting out of the bed. "I told you to stay in bed. Here, I have the towel."

Lovino glared at him, folding his knees up to his chest to at least attempt modesty. "You got my bed all wet, you tomato fucker," he said, snatching the towel away.

"Not too much. You drip-dried a little." Antonio tugged the towel back and brought it to Lovino's arm, wiping off the water droplets. "I'm showing how much I love you, so let me do it." Once his arm was dry, he placed a lingering kiss to it before drying off the other arm. He repeated the action, and did the same with his olive-toned legs.

Lovino watched him with wide eyes. It was... odd. And yet, it was such an Antonio thing to do. He thought about fighting back, contemplating it all the while he watched Antonio dry him. Once the moisture was more or less gone, he sat up further. "Are you finished?"

"No." He got up on the bed, straddling Lovino's legs, so that he could dry off his hair. After a minute he figured it was dry enough, and threw the towel on the ground. Then he leaned forward, taking the Italian's lips in a quick kiss. "I love you." Then he kissed his cheek, and again said it, then his other cheek, and said it again. He continued until he had kissed his whole face.

Thinking to himself that if his heart were to race any faster it might actually explode, Lovino met Antonio's too-honest eyes. "Fuck you," he murmured, craning his neck up to instigate a kiss of his own.

Antonio smiled into the kiss, but pulled back, his eyes dead set on Lovino's to make himself perfectly clear. "I _love_ you."

* * *

><p>(Btw gaiz, shameless self-promotion I know, but if you happen to read <em>The Escape<em>, you can find a link to a bit of a spoiler video in the journal section on my profile. There are bunnies. You know you want to.)


	7. Chapter 7

Depending on what Lovino did then, he could either go make something for them to eat, or Antonio could continue kissing his entire body until he believed what he was saying.

Lovino's frown was lacking any true malice, and indeed his face was flushed so slightly with pleasure. "I heard you the first thousand times. Stuck on repeat, tomato bastard?" he tried to jibe without any bite behind it. Noticing then that their limbs were dangerously tangled he shifted, his hair falling across the pillow. "I know you're not going to do this all fucking day."

"I could, if it takes you that long to believe me. You said that you've never been loved before, so I have to make you feel loved." Antonio gave a smile and shifted closer to him so their bare chests were touching, their faces inches apart.

It was _not_ sweet, no matter what Lovino's fool heart was thinking, and he was definitely _not_ swooning internally. He was so _not_ swooning that he even took the manly initiative to grab Antonio by the shoulder and flip his surprised ass over so that _he_was the one with his back to the mattress and Lovino was conveniently perched on top. "Bitch, you need to get yourself in the kitchen," he growled, nose to nose with the Spaniard.

Looking up at him, Antonio slipped his hand down and rubbed the Italian's butt. "I can't while you're on top of me like this. Especially when we're both getting hard again."

Turning red, Lovino rolled off of him and into the covers beside Antonio. "Fuck you, Antonio. Don't you know the way to an Italian's heart is through his own cooking?"

"Need I remind you how much you loved my pizza?" He got off the bed as well, and looked around the room. "Ah, I think before we go to the kitchen we should at least put on some underwear..."

Hoping to get revenge for all of the flustered humiliation Antonio had wrought upon him, Lovino snickered a little to himself. "Oh, I don't think so."

Antonio looked back at him, an eyebrow raised. "But there are a lot of windows. What if someone sees?" Although he realized that that was probably the point. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time he has cooked completely naked.

"Please, bitch. The day Antonio Carriedo is abashed about his body is the day I eat my own hair. Now get in the kitchen while _I _get dressed."

So Antonio went to the kitchen in his birthday suit. He figured it would be alright as long as they didn't cook anything that might spit at him. He just cleaned for the few minutes it took Lovino to get down there, fully dressed.

Despite the fact that he was the one who ordered Antonio to stay naked, it still gave him a start to see the toned, nude Spaniard just... standing there in his kitchen. He cleared his throat. "First thing's first. We're going to make some motherfucking cannoli."

Antonio stayed pretty much quiet as he was getting the instructions, a small smile on his face. It was slightly distracting to just be hanging out like that, but it was almost worth the constant blush that adorned Lovino's cute face.

"... Here, now use this to cut the dough into circles," Lovino instructed, "and check the temperature of the oil. I don't want it undercooked and greasy." Noticing then a fine streak of flour down the side of Antonio's naked chest, the concentration on his handsome face, and the little tongue poked out the side of his mouth, Lovino's lips curved into an involuntary smile. "Four circles. There you go."

He was very proud of his circles, Antonio decided. They were perfect. Then he checked the oil like he was asked, being very careful so that it wouldn't spit or anything.

"Good. Now wrap them around the tube like... no, like this." Lovino let Antonio hold the wooden tube as he wrapped the cannoli dough around, one arm through the Spaniard's as he worked. "There. Now give it to me and go put that apron on. I don't want you bitching about any oil burns later."

Well, that was good at least. He went and got the apron, and laughed a little as he saw that it would cover only his front, and not by much, so it would be just like a girl in a porno with a sexy apron. "How do I look?"

Lightly basting one wrapped cannoli in egg whites, he rolled his eyes and didn't even deem fit to look over his shoulder. "Like a fucking princess, Antonio. I'm sure."

"But you didn't even look!" He went back to the oven and watched what he was doing.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Lovino turned his eyes to Antonio and choked. The hilarity of the entire situation was almost too much for him to handle. If there hadn't been a wide pan of boiling-hot oil in front of him, he would have gone into a hysterical fit. Snickering, he rechecked the temperature of the oil and lowered the cannoli tube with tongs inside, jolting slightly at a creeping sensation on his neck. "A-Antonio, knock it off; this oil is fucking hot!"

The Spaniard crept his arms around Lovino's waist and put his chin on his shoulder. "You're so good at this, Lovi. I like watching you cook." Antonio nuzzled the brunette's neck, giving it another little kiss.

Not willing to risk splashing the oil in a quest to remove himself from Antonio's embrace, Lovino sulked into it. "Whatever. J-just don't get either of us burned, bastard."

"Alright. Don't worry, it'll be fine." Antonio really wished that he wasn't the only one who was naked, but at least Lovino was letting him hold him like this. "So, what do you want to do today? We could go out on a date."

Sliding the fried shell onto a metal rack by the stovetop, Lovino began to fry another. "For a slave, you sure do make a lot of fucking suggestions. Damn." He rolled the shell a little, his head lightly falling on Antonio's shoulder. "Do you have somewhere in mind?"

"Not really, anywhere would be good. I just like being with you." This was turning into a perfect weekend. He really hadn't expected any of this to happen, and as long as 'Spain' didn't somehow mess it up, it would be wonderful.

"Then what's the point of going out?" he mumbled, deciding that he was most definitely too comfortable in Antonio's arms. "D-do you want to... I mean, go make the filling, bitch."

Antonio went to make the filling under Lovino's careful instruction. "So you would rather stay in? Well, with this we could have a romantic dinner, and then maybe we could rent a movie, watch it in each other's arms..." Yes, he was a hopeless romantic, but he just loved the idea!

"You're such a fucking girl," Lovino said, removing the shell from the tube, trying not to feel too pleased at the prospect. "... W-what would we do until then?"

"We could... well actually I was thinking of doing some cleaning today, so maybe we could do that before dinner. Or you could do what you want and I will clean." Since he liked cleaning almost as much as cooking.

"Well, I need more flour if I'm going to make ravioli from scratch, so if you finish before I do, you could run down to the market and..." Lovino paused. "Great fuck, could we sound any more married?" he grumbled, going warm at the implications.

Antonio grinned and looked over at him. "Do you mind?" After all, they had been saying things like that way before they had kind of started dating last night. "I mean we live together, so it just makes sense that we would sound like that, doesn't it?" It made sense to him, at least.

"Shut up and stir the cream," Lovino snapped, a barely-there smile on his lips.

Once he was done with the shells, he turned the heat off of the stove and washed his hands. "Put that in the fridge," he indicated toward the bowl. "I'll go shopping now, unless you have any qualms."

"No, that's fine. I'll get started on cleaning." Antonio closed the fridge door and went up to him. "Goodbye kiss?"

"..."

Lovino looked down along Antonio's body as he pressed near him. "Damn, you're needy. Fine." He looked back up from the lean abs and tilted his chin, closing his eyes in wait. Antonio pressed close, kissing him deeply. They both pulled back, and Lovino still had his eyes closed. "Thank you. Oh could you get some eggs as well? We're running low."

Opening his eyes in a little daze, Lovino took a minute to scowl. "... Fuck you, you fucking tease." Grabbing his wallet on his way out the door Lovino yelled over his shoulder, "I'll get your shitty eggs."

The door slammed behind him with finality.

.oOo.

Nearly two hours later the sound of the lock rattled and Lovino pushed through the door, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. "Hey, bastard," he called into the apartment, toeing off his shoes and padding into the kitchen. One brief glance told him that Antonio was seated on the couch in the living room. "The quest for your fucking eggs sent me all over town. The old guy at the farmers' market was all out by the time I got there, and everywhere else sells eggs as old as Christ, so I had to go to the next town over and..." He went on, putting all the food away. At the time, it didn't quite register to Lovino how odd it was that Antonio didn't hop up immediately to help him.

Finally finishing, he yawned, contemplating his midday nap, walking into the living room. "... Hey, tomato bastard." The Italian rounded on Antonio around the couch. "Are you fucking listening to me?"

"I'm listening, I just don't care." The brunet sunk deeper into the couch, and turned up the volume of the TV. He didn't even look over at Lovino.

Taken aback, it was a short moment before Lovino frowned. "... son of a bitch. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What, you think just because you two bitches got together that I would stop fucking coming out?" Spain yelled, turning around and glaring at him. "Seriously, what the hell is your problem? I thought you were gay, so why are you with a pussy?"

Lovino growled, his fingers curling themselves into fists. "Stop bitching about it, you crazy fuck. Why did he let you out?" he asked tersely.

His attention went back to the TV, not wanting to look at the man he had seen swoon over Antonio for the last 24 hours. "He doesn't _let_ me out; I wanted out because he was watching fucking girly shows. So I came out." Spain crossed his arms across his chest, green eyes glaring at everything. "Go fuck yourself, I don't want to talk to you. Wait; you'll _have_ to fuck yourself anyway, 'cause that pansy ass freak sure as hell won't do it."

"The fuck? It's not like I fucking want to carry on a conversation with you either, you prick!" Not receiving a response, Lovino regarded "Spain" furiously and snatched the remote off the edge of the couch and turned the television off. "Antonio. Did you finish cleaning the house?"

"What the hell? Are you fucking stupid? I'm not that dipshit! I'm _me_, and I know you fucking hate me but you have to deal with me!" Spain snarled at him, hands clenching into fists. "I'm not gonna fucking disappear!" That's what everyone wanted, him to be gone and leave perfect fucking Antonio alone to fucking save the world. No one cared about him, the one who actually made sure the pussy didn't get the shit kicked out of him.

The Italian's base instincts told him to run and hide, but on trembling legs Lovino stayed, his frown one of determination. "That doesn't answer my fucking question, Antonio. We had a deal. If the house isn't clean, it's going to take longer for me to make dinner without you, and then the whole schedule will be off."

Spain jumped at him, pushing Lovino's shoulders painfully into the couch. "I'm not Antonio! Fuck! Stop fucking saying I'm that piece of shit! I'm not leaving!" He was panting heavily, more angry than he had been when Lovino was sick.

The Italian had always known himself to be a coward, his trembling hands and hot eyes proof of the fact, but his mouth wouldn't stop. His eyes were wide, frightened and hopeful. "F-fuck, Antonio, don't you want to make dinner with me?" he pleaded, searching the terrible green eyes for Antonio. "You t-told me you would be with me all day, you fucking liar."

"Fine." His nostrils flared and he glared wildly down at Lovino. "If you won't fucking look at _me,_ then I'll do something he would never have the balls to do!" Spain pushed him more into the couch, and then went for Lovino's fly. "I'll make you cry out my name one way or another!"

Lovino's heart palpitated so wildly that he thought he might faint. "No!" The cry was ripped from his chest, and a thin stream of heat and salty terror poured from the corners of his eyes. "Antonio! Antonio, please!"

He worked furiously at the button, the Italian making it hard with all his squirming around. "Shut the fuck up! He can't rescue you!" Spain saw that tear tracks on Lovino's face, but they just made him work harder. Screw this motherfucker, there was nothing wrong with him! There were people out there who would _die_ for the chance to be fucked by him!

The terrified man sobbed, his fists pounding at the Spaniard's shoulders. When they were captured he twisted, Antonio's name a quick and pleading mantra on his lips.

Spain suddenly pushed back. He couldn't stand it anymore! Antonio Antonio everything about _fucking Antonio!_ He was there, too! It was him right now goddammit! "Why aren't I good enough?" he yelled so loudly that everything else seemed to stop. Then he turned on his heel and stormed out the door, determined to find someone willing who liked his dick up their ass and didn't care that he wasn't God-fucking-hell Antonio.

Lovino didn't watch him go, his eyes trained on the ceiling. Numbly, the thought occurred to him that he should have gone after Spain, that whenever the personality was in control and out on the town, Antonio always suffered for it, but his body wouldn't listen to him.

After a few long, awful moments he managed to sit up, trying to fix his appearance without any real feeling. As he smoothed down his shirt, Lovino's eyes surveyed the room. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and lit the spotless room with a brightness that Lovino found no comfort in. He didn't move from the spot for hours.

.oOo.

Antonio found himself in an alleyway, his fly still undone, a pile of rotting vomit only a few feet from him. Well, at least this time he wasn't drunk, so he would actually be able to find his way home.

He figured that about an hour ago, he had started seeing clips of things 'Spain' was doing. The first was of him getting slapped by a girly looking guy with long blond hair, and then getting slapped by that guy's boyfriend. After that, all he saw was kind of blurred, because he didn't want to see, he hated seeing what 'Spain' did, and oh God, he hoped Lovino was alright.

When he got out of the alleyway and found a street sign, he figured that he wasn't that far away from home, and could probably walk back. Besides, he didn't think he had enough money for a cab on him. Antonio got there rather quickly, hoping beyond hope that 'Spain' had come out and left the house well before Lovino had gotten home.

From inside the dark apartment, Lovino's body jolted when he heard a bit of shuffling around behind the front door. Leaving his half-eaten tomato behind, the Italian scurried off into his bedroom before the door opened, and holed himself away in his bathroom, making sure to lock the door just in case before turning the knob of the shower.

As soon as the door was open, Antonio ran into the house. He couldn't see Lovino, and wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Lovino! Are you in here? Are you alright?" He heard the shower, and ran in that direction, but the door was locked. "Lovino? It's me, are you alright?"

From inside, Lovino froze. He had already stripped himself of his pants, and the buttons were only halfway undone by his clumsy, shaken fingers. His eyes were trained on the door. "F-fine," he murmured, and realizing that he'd been too quiet, he cleared his throat, immediately cringing at how pathetically fake the words sounded coming from his mouth. "I'm fine."

His eyes widened at the vulnerable sound of Lovino's voice. "Please, can you let me in? I'm sorry, I didn't even know he had taken over! I'm sorry if he said anything... or did anything... please let me in Lovino." Antonio didn't want this to just be another failed relationship because of 'Spain'. He wouldn't be able to deal with that. Not with Lovino.

Slowly, Lovino eased over to the door, his hand turning the knob numbly. He pulled it back, peeking through the crack at Antonio. "You look like shit," he whispered.

Antonio gave a sigh of relief that he didn't see any visible bruises. "I- I'm sorry, for whatever he did. What did he do?" He pushed the door open and walked in, lifting a slow hand to Lovino's face. He wasn't sure if a hug would be alright, because what if 'Spain'... what if he...

Lovino wanted to hold him and he wanted to push him away, but he could do neither, so he stood, simply staring into Antonio's fretful green eyes. "He didn't do anything to me." Aside from the terrorizing, it was the truth. Physically, he hadn't left a single mark on Lovino. Even so, Antonio obviously expected the worst, so there was no time for him to play the victim. He lifted his hands to touch Antonio's wrists. "You smell awful. Brush your teeth, down half a bottle of mouthwash, and get in the shower. We'll talk later."

"Alright. Will you wait for me to be finished?" Antonio gave a small, hesitant smile. He was still really worried about what 'Spain' might have done or said, but it didn't seem like Lovino was going to throw him out or anything.

Lovino nodded absently, fingering the buttons of his shirt. He was fine, comfortable being naked around Antonio, but Spain... he was too strong, too bull-headed, and too selfish for Lovino's comfort. He turned his eyes to Antonio. "... Do you have some kind of mechanism or something that can keep that crazy fuck inside the way you've been doing for the past few weeks?"

He shrugged, and took out his toothbrush. "I haven't really done anything different for the past few weeks, to tell you the truth. I know that's not what you want to hear. Maybe it's just that he didn't get out as often because I was so happy, but that doesn't mean that he never _will_ get out. Obviously, because today I was the happiest I have been for a while."

At that Lovino turned to the door. "I'll be waiting," he said quietly before slipping out.

Half an hour later, Antonio walked down the stairs, drying off his hair. He saw Lovino in the kitchen, and he quickly looked around for anything broken. "Hey."

Lovino glanced up dazedly from his mangled tomato. He grunted in response, watching Antonio cross the room. Seeing Antonio's fresh appearance reminded him of the clean feeling the shower gave him, washing Spain's lasting touch away with lots of soap and fervent scrubbing. "You smell... better."

"Is that the only compliment I get?" Antonio joked, trying to lighten up the mood. It didn't work very well, though. Lovino watched as Antonio made his way to the other side of the island and averted his eyes when they were cast in his direction. "What do you want to hear, bastard?" he mumbled, digging his forefinger deep into the juicy interior of the tomato.

He shrugged and sat down on one of the chairs. "We need to talk, so where do you want to start?" One thing they needed to talk about was exactly what 'Spain' had done today. Antonio needed to know, so that he could maybe work on making it better.

The Italian shrugged back, his eyes focused on the mauled tomato. "I don't know what you want me to say," he mumbled, his thumbnail scraping at the shiny red exterior.

"Well, what happened? Because I didn't even know it was happening until I saw 'Spain' get slapped by someone. And I can still feel that, actually." Antonio rubbed his cheek with a small pout.

He had never been honest with Antonio about Spain's little appearances before. He still wondered if it was such a good idea. "He was just... here when I came back. On the couch."

"But that can't be all that happened. That wouldn't make you... look nervous." And 'Spain' wouldn't just leave like that, not when there was a chance to bug someone.

"Well... dammit, Antonio." Lovino stabbed the tomato all the way through. "He was sulking and I... I tried to get to you, and he got mad."

Antonio stepped forward, a bit hesitant. When Lovino didn't flinch away, he grabbed the tomato and put his hand in it's place. "It's alright, just tell me what happened. What did he do when he got mad?" Apparently years of psychotherapy had made him into a therapist.

Lovino's eyes flickered up to Antonio's. "... Shit, you're not going to let this go." He looked down at their hands, regarding them almost shyly. "He didn't... do anything, really. Well. Fucking terrified me, sure as shit, but he didn't even get me out of my pants." Though he was fighting to keep himself calm, he could hear his own voice thickening with emotion. He cleared his throat. "I just wanted you, you stupid bastard, but you didn't come..."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know..." Antonio pulled him closer in a hug, feeling terrible that he hadn't been there for him.

"Shut up," he said, burying his face into Antonio's shoulder. "That's the last time I leave you alone, you bastard. He overpowers you too fucking easily."

Antonio held him close and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't even know what happened… all I remember was watching TV."

"Why did he come out?" Lovino murmured, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Fuck, Antonio, you've kept him in for so long. What was so different about the two fucking hours I was gone?"

"I think it's because... He's jealous. He doesn't want us together, so he was trying extra hard to get out." After all, they always liked and loved the same things. It wouldn't change with this, it was just that 'Spain' had a different way of showing it.

"... the _fuck_?" Lovino looked up at him with a befuddled frown. "There's no way that's his motive. If that were the case he'd..." His brow scrunched together. "... No. I think you're wrong. He just gets bored, I think, and that evil little shit takes it out on the person you live with."

He didn't want to argue with him, so Antonio just shrugged and looked around. "So are we still going to have cannoli? It's a little late, but I'm starving." Because 'Spain' had never been one to do something so boring like eating, so his stomach was empty.

Lovino disentangled himself from Antonio's arms and threw a very gory tomato into the compost bag. "Go ahead. I'm gonna go to bed." There was nothing better to do. The entire night had been ruined, and like the tomato, he believed to try to salvage it would be a lost cause. It had been fun while it lasted.

He nodded but didn't move. "Are... We alright? Like do you want me to sleep with you again tonight? I can understand if you don't of course, after what happened..."

Lovino wished he knew. Looking down at his feet for a moment, he finally glanced up into Antonio's eyes. "You're not allowed to have any moments of fucking weakness. Be vigilant. _He's_ not allowed in my bed; _you _are." He rubbed at his cheek, his eyes wandering to the door. "So... so if you have confidence enough in yourself, you can come to bed later. But if you're gonna be all wishy-washy and shit about it, then... then there's no point. That's like I'm inviting that psycho under my covers."

He retreated then, shuffling out the kitchen door and up the tight spiral staircase.

Antonio thought about it. How he never used to be able to control it, how he had kept 'Spain' at bay for the last few weeks. Maybe he was getting better, but that meant that his other personality was getting angrier. In the end, it came down to his feelings for Lovino. After that little taste, he couldn't just go back to being roommates, and if he didn't trust himself tonight, then he would never trust himself.

So after a quick meal, he found himself walking right to Lovino's room.


	8. Chapter 8

13,000 words? Oh yeah. You're welcome. ;D

* * *

><p>The summer street market in the square was winding down after a long day of business and Lovino had countless bags hung over the crook of his elbow and along his forearm from various produce stands. All in all, he believed his spoils to be perfect and plentiful, and for a Friday night, he was feeling terribly productive. Antonio had called and promised to meet him by the bank after he got off work so that he could drive him home, and thanks to Antonio's later shifts, the sun was slowly setting on the horizon, the city cast in a bright orange glow.<p>

The market was located at the north side of the city, the older half, so as to avoid the bustling foot traffic of the south side that resulted in quite a few thefts. It was less populated, almost a sub-town of its own, and Lovino enjoyed it for its serenity. As he strolled farther down winding avenues, the patronage of the streets thinned to a few businessmen and teenagers every now and then passing by, nearly as plentiful as the darkening alleyways along the path.

Two men stepped in front of him at an opportune moment—the street was empty, the alleyway was dark, and Lovino was alone. It was obvious they were trying to look intimidating, but it didn't really work, being that they were mere teenagers. That was, until they were joined by three more. "Hey, what'cha got in these bags here? Looks like food, and ya know dude, we really like food."

The tallest of the gang snickered. "Yeah, we like food a lot. You wanna hand some over?"

Lovino, who had jerked to a halt after nearly running into a particularly dim-looking individual with his pants hanging halfway down to his knees, scowled and crossed his arms with some difficulty. "Well, fuck no," he said blithely, not willing to be jarred from his good mood by a bunch of apes. "But huh. You like food, do you? That's a fucking relief. I thought I was the only one. Good to know I'm not alone. Excuse me." He tried to sidestep one goon only to be blocked. Lovino frowned. "That's fucked up, getting in my way like that. Do you know how rarely I'm polite?"

"Well, obviously not that polite, because we had asked so nicely. Maybe next time, we won't even bother asking." One of the guys flipped out a knife, and the two guys behind Lovino stopped him from backing away. "Now, give us the bags. And your wallet too, for being such a bitch."

Lovino was patting himself on the back for not running immediately; he supposed (very dryly) that he had "Spain" to thank for that thick skin. Sliding a quick hand in his pocket, Lovino pressed the first button his finger came in contact with, and the distinguishable Send. Speed dial was good for something, after all, especially if someone could locate him based on sound like all those crime shows... and if he died... well, at least there'd be audible proof. "Bitch? Watch your fucking mouth. My grandfather was a mafia don."

* * *

><p>At that moment, Antonio was driving from work, and picked up his phone at the sudden vibration in his pocket. "Lovi?" But all he heard was muffled noise. Although... it sounded like a fight... He turned quickly, going through the path he thought Lovino would have taken to get back from the market. He was about to pass an alleyway, when he saw a few rowdy adolescents skulk en masse into a dark alley. His gut clenched.<p>

"Really? You're gonna fucking drag me into an alley by my cucumbers?" Lovino growled, his anger very quickly melting into a shaking rage-turned-fear. He had seen the movies; there was usually a knight in shining armor when things were almost past the point of no return, and that was fucking great. He also read the newspapers where girls were dragged into dark corners and raped, tortured, strangled, maimed, sometimes killed, even screaming at the tops of their lungs. Even when people could hear them. "Fucking pussy-ass cowards," he spit, yelping as the bags were torn from his arms, some of the "organic" shit scraping his arms as one of the punks pushed him into the brick wall. "Ow! Fuck, you dumb piece of shit!"

One of the punks was about to punch him, but something - or some_one _- barreled into him. Spain got up and dusted himself off, looking at the flabbergasted faces of everyone around them with a wide, arrogant smirk. "Alright, who the fuck wants a good fight?"

Even in the dark, Lovino knew that voice. A shudder ran through him and for a moment, he couldn't move. "W-what the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

"Shut up bitch. Come on fuckers, you even have knives! Are you afraid of one guy?" Well, they _should _be afraid of him. They should be fucking terrified, and God did he ever enjoy a good fight. Spain grinned as one of the punks started coming at him. "One at a time? Give me a challenge!"

Watching the men being taken down one by one, suffering a fate far less pleasant than his own, he fell less relief than dread. Why was Spain, of all people, saving him? "Don't call me a bitch, fucking manwhore," he grumbled, slowly inching away along the brick wall.

Spain smashed the last guy's head into the wall, and looked over to Lovino who was crouched at the bottom of a wall. "That was fun. What do I get for saving your ass?" One of the punks started moving, so he kicked him in the gut till he stopped, and another one ran away.

Lovino glared upwards at him. "Get the fuck out of here if you think you're... why _are _you here?"

"Isn't it obvious? That pussy couldn't beat up all those guys. Maybe now you can fucking see that I'm better for you." He sneered slightly, and looked at a cut on his arm. Fuck, he liked fighting, but he hated dealing with the after-effects. "Whatever. Now that my part is done, I don't wanna stick around. See ya, sweet cheeks."

Pushing himself up on his feet, Lovino swore. "Son of a bitch, don't you fucking waltz in here like the king of dark, creepy alleys and get the tomato bastard all banged up and think you can just go on your merry way like some... some... some fucking mysterious superhero! Bitch!" He grabbed the Spaniard by the collar.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Antonio stepped back. "Lovi! Please don't; it's me!"

Lovino blinked and slowly released him. "... oh. Hi, bastard. Let's get out of this creepy alley."

"Alright." Antonio looked to the ground, and rubbed his arm where a bruise was sure to form. Luckily the cut on his arm wasn't bleeding too bad, so he could just put a bandage on it when they got home. He didn't look at Lovino, worried that he was still angry, not to mention he was angry at himself, and couldn't bring himself to look at all the punks on the ground.

As they walked, Lovino surveyed the damage to his goods. He crouched down, gathering the bags and undamaged produce that somehow escaped the scuffle. "Dammit," he muttered to himself, "fuckin' punks..."

Antonio was still walking, and he bit his lip. He knew that they were bad guys, that they were going to beat Lovino up, but most of them were only teenagers. He was pretty sure that they were just unconscious, but they really didn't deserve that, they probably would have run away if 'Spain' had let them. He didn't have to do all that! By the time the Spaniard got to his car, there were tears in his eyes. He hated it when 'Spain' got in fights, he hated it! Not just because he got hurt, but mostly because of the other people that got hurt. He was a doctor! He should help people, not hurt them!

When all the things had been gathered, Lovino looked up, frowning when he noticed that Antonio was nearly out of the alley. "Chivalry? What's that?" he mumbled, casting a withered glance at the brats on the ground behind him. Just in case. Tossing the bags in the backseat, Lovino huffed. "What the fuck is up with teenagers today?" he said, climbing into the passenger seat.

"Do you ah... want to go home? Or something?" Antonio forced himself to calm down, not wanting to upset Lovino.

As they peeled out from the side of the nearly empty street, Lovino frowned. "Um. If you want. I'm gonna call the cops." He pulled out his phone, watching Antonio from his periphery, even as the woman on the other line calmly greeted him. "Yeah, hi. My boyfriend and I just saw a bunch of weird shadows on the ground in this alley and... no, I don't think it's... It's not a murder, lady, I'm just saying you should probably get it checked out. It was just weird. No, we didn't get closer. No, we're not at the scene... damn, you ask a lot of questions. I told you what I know. Check it out or don't; the cops in this city blow. Goodbye." He hung up with a huff.

"So, are they coming?" Antonio asked, his voice strangely hollow. He went to change lanes, but forgot to look, and there was a horn honking. He quickly swerved back into his own lane, avoiding a collision. "Sorry."

"Great good fuck, Antonio!" Lovino cursed, his hands gripping the dashboard. Glaring at the Spaniard he demanded in a non-arguable tone, "Pull the fuck over. Right there. Now."

This time he made sure to shoulder check, and pulled into the first parking lot they came to, which happened to be to a small park. Antonio didn't say anything, just parked and turned the car off, leaving his hands on the wheel.

The Italian sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. "Okay." Deep golden light smothered the treetops and the hood of Antonio's car. "What's wrong?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, closing his eyes. "It's my fault." Antonio said in a whisper. "It's all my fault."

Lovino frowned. "What's your fault?" _You're fucking perfect, _his mind supplied unhelpfully.

"Everything! Those boys are probably going to have to go to the hospital! They might be seriously injured!" He finally looked over to Lovino, breathing unevenly. "It's my fault, they didn't deserve that! They hadn't even hit you."

"How the fuck is that your fault?" he said, a little insulted. "You didn't call him out or anything, did you?"

Antonio once again went silent and looked out the window to a tree that was moving in the wind. "I... I did."

"... Oh." He glanced out at the small, empty park with its winding trail that led through somewhere in nature, he was sure, and the pathetic swing set before his eyes eventually trailed back to Antonio. "I still don't understand why you think you're at fault."

"Because! I saw you, surrounded by all those men, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to do anything. I asked him to come out, I asked him to do that!" He was crying, tears rolling down his face. "I should have found a better solution. Maybe if I had just called the cops and tried to stall, or something, it would have been fine, but I am a horrible person for actually asking 'Spain' to come out!"

Lovino unbuckled his seatbelt and moved awkwardly over the console to Antonio, his body twisted with his feet facing the opposite direction of his face as he took Antonio by the face, his expression one of angered sadness. "Dammit, Antonio," he growled, balling the end of his sleeve in his fist and dabbing at Antonio's wet eyes. "Stupid bastard. You didn't do anything wrong. No, shut up. Don't argue with me." He huffed. "I'm sick of you getting so fucking s-sad over the shit Spain does... even though today he was... kind of helpful." He wrinkled his nose at the thought. "You're not even thinking about your fucking progress; you let _him_ come out. He's a part of _you_ and you're finally getting that. So he beat down a pathetic excuse for a gang that tried to fuck with me. They're teenagers; youth is all about bouncing back. And maybe next time they'll think twice about mugging some poor fag on the street."

He looked at him, and tried to stop the tears. Antonio pushed forward, taking Lovino's mouth in a wet kiss. If they could still do this, then it was still alright. He hadn't messed up too bad as long as he and the Italian could still be together.

Lovino blinked, his mouth instantly succumbing to Antonio's whims. Fuck himself to the moon for being so in tune with Antonio's affections. His thumbs stroked the wetness from Antonio's eyes as he felt his own begin to close, tilting his head to take in more of Antonio's soft mouth.

Since he knew that Lovino had to be uncomfortable with the console digging into his hip, Antonio pulled back and gave him a small smile. "Alright, I think I can drive now."

"Mood killer," Lovino mumbled, but shifted back to his own seat nonetheless, snapping the seatbelt back on. He glanced out the side of his eyes and noticed Antonio's right back on him. He most certainly did _not _feel warm and fuzzy over something so trivial. "The fuck are you looking at? Just drive!"

"Alright. Home?" He smiled and pulled out of the parking lot, putting his hand on Lovino's thigh and squeezing comfortably.

The Italian jumped at the sudden contact and flushed a brilliant red. But... but Antonio was probably still feeling down, so he wouldn't yell at him for it just yet. "Y-yeah. L-let's go home... bastard..."

This time there were no close calls, because he was much more focused. Lovino believed in him, so maybe there was a reason to believe in himself. Antonio still wasn't happy that he had asked 'Spain' to come out and fight, but it needed to happen because they had been about to hurt his Lovi.

Worrying to himself that if Antonio went any deeper in thought he might drown, Lovino breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled into the apartment lot. Taking Antonio's hand from his thigh he watched as the Spaniard's attention focused in on him. "You okay now, bastard?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. But at least you weren't hurt, right?" He grinned and took his seat belt off. "Oh, I had wanted to tell you something. Next week I'm going to a support group, and there is a part to help our significant others and families. You don't have to come if you don't want to; I just thought I would tell you."

Judging by his covert glances, though, Lovino could see through his nonchalance that he was hopeful. His hand involuntarily gave Antonio's a tiny squeeze. "... I'll check my schedule. If I'm free, I'll go."

"Okay. No big deal of course, just if you're free." He had never been able to bring anyone before, and it would be nice to have Lovino talk to other people with the same problems.

Gathering his bags from the back Lovino stepped out of the car, walking alongside Antonio through the glass doors and into the elevator. When the doors slid closed with a little _ding_, he bit his lower lip. It was a little silly to feel so weird about it after having been _with _with Antonio for nearly three weeks, but... Oh, to hell with all of this pussy shit. He leaned over, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss against his boyfriend's lips before he could change his mind.

Antonio would have kissed him back, but the elevator doors opened and two elderly ladies came in and Lovino pulled away instantly, so he was just stuck standing there with a large goofy grin on his face. "So what would you like to eat for dinner? What did you get at the store?" That hadn't been crushed, of course.

Unable to meet Antonio's eyes with all the peeking and tittering the old bats were doing just a couple feet away, Lovino blushed. "J-just some... some vegetables and fruit... and homemade sauce... and c-candles..."

"Candles? Were you planning a romantic dinner?" Antonio joked, peeking in one of the bags. The doors opened again and they got out of their floor.

"N-no! I'm... that's not..." He fumbled for the keys in his pocket. "I'm not a romantic little pussy like you, dammit. T-they just... smelled nice."

He took the bags from him so that Lovino could open the door easier. "Alright, well would you mind if I used the candles for a romantic dinner? It would be so nice… we could have it out on the balcony! With the candles and everything, it would be so perfect!"

"Dumbass," he mumbled, opening the door and shuffling in. "How could we possibly eat with all of the tomato plants? There's no room for a table."

"There's room for a small one." Antonio put the bags on the table and started taking things out. "Uh oh, a yogurt container exploded. That's messy." But besides that, most of the groceries were still in good shape, considering what they had gone through.

Glancing over, Lovino couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yeah... you've got pink goo all over your hand." He snickered, rifling through one of his own bags. "Does it taste good?"

He licked one of his fingers to try it. "Yeah, it does taste really good. What kind is it?" He continued licking his hand until all the yogurt was off.

"... You're like a fucking puppy," he mused, pulling out a few minimally-squished loaves of zucchini bread. "I think the lady said... pomegranate? Fuck if I know. If there are annoying little seeds in it, it's probably pomegranate."

Antonio shrugged and got everything out of the bag and started rinsing them off. Of course, this got his hand covered in the yogurt again. He wiggled his fingers in front of Lovino's face. "You want to try? You obviously wanted some if you bought it, right?"

Never one to back down from a _challenge,_ Lovino scowled and licked at the stretch of skin between Antonio's thumb and forefinger. "Just like I thought; too fucking sweet."

"Then why did you buy it?" Antonio washed his hands off, to get rid of the rest of the yogurt. He wouldn't say anything, but he had been hoping that Lovino would have actually taken one of his fingers into his mouth instead of just licking it, but it didn't matter. He wasn't even sure why he wanted that.

"Because good homemade yogurt is the _shit,_" Lovino explained in a tone that was not to be argued. "I didn't really have anything in mind for dinner, though, since that's _your _job."

But Antonio knew that if he just started making dinner, Lovino would either go to his room and be bored and cranky, or he would just hover around the kitchen and be in his way, and still be cranky. "Of course, I'll cook. I mean, I had been hoping you could show me another Italian recipe, but I can just make lasagna. Do you like onions?"

Definitely not about to let Antonio know he'd been flattered, he came to stand beside him, nudging Antonio's shoulder with his own. "Like I can trust you to do it right," he said, thrusting his nose in the air. "Ugh. Fine, you damn bastard, I'll help you. But you owe me one."

"Just tell me what you would like me to do to repay you." His mission complete, Antonio followed his instructions and got a pot to boil. It was going to take a while though, so he watched Lovino cutting things up. "You look so sexy in that apron."

"S-shut up, weirdo," he huffed, his cheeks flushed. "Guys in aprons aren't sexy." He finished the onions with the speed of a professional, still not managing to be rid of them before the pungent sting crept into his eyes. He blinked furiously, sniffling as tears popped into his eyes. "Stupid motherfucking onions..."

Antonio grinned and went over to him with a napkin, dabbing at his eyes. "Don't struggle; you can't do this because your hands are covered in onion juice and it would only make it worse." He didn't want his poor Lovino to get onion in his eyes, after all.

Lovino wrinkled his nose at that. "I'm not a fuckin' baby," he muttered without malice, his own odd expression one of gratitude. At such a proximity, he was kind of maybe just a little hoping that Antonio would... _maybe..._He blushed and shook his head, refusing to finish the thought. "Y-you're in my way, bastard," he muttered. "I need the tomatoes..."

"Alright, I'll go get some." Antonio put the napkin down and went to the deck. He picked a few ripe tomatoes and took them back inside. He was just closing the sliding door when he heard a crash. "Lovino?" Running back into the kitchen, he saw the pot of water on the ground, and a large wet spot on the Italian's pants. "Oh no! We have to take your pants off or it will burn!"

"W-what? It's not that ho- h-hey, you crazy bastard the fuck do you think you're doing!" he squawked as the Spaniard's hands dove behind his apron and to the zipper of his jeans.

"It'll burn! Here just let me take them off! It's not like I haven't seen you before, you sleep in boxers!" And they showered together a lot now, but that didn't matter as Antonio finally managed to get the pants off and around his feet. "There we go." He got a cloth and started drying Lovino's legs off.

"Antonio!" he said, trying to scold him. He must have looked so silly with only an apron covering his thighs, his briefs inadequate for such an endeavor.

"That's better." His look of relief slowly melted into one of mischief. He glanced up, a grin forming on his lips. "And you know what? Now you look even sexier, only having the apron covering you." Antonio stood up, inches from Lovino, a hand on his upper thigh. Of course, he still had underwear on, but from where he was he couldn't see them.

Lovino's dark golden eyes widened. "F-fuck, Antonio," he murmured, his lower back touching the counter top. "You can't j-just go from concerned to horny at the bat of an eye, dammit..."

He followed him, placing his hands on the counter on either side of Lovino's hips. "But you weren't hurt, so what's wrong with that?" He grinned, going in for a kiss. Antonio pushed their bodies together, licking Lovino's bottom lip. Lovino shuddered, his lips parting to take Antonio in. He made a little noise. Heat flooded his chest and face as it always did when Antonio took control. "B-bastard, what about dinner..."

"We can finish after. Nothing we have going right now will burn or anything, so it'll be fine." He started mouthing Lovino's neck, knowing not to leave a mark. "And if we go too late, we could always order pizza. I'll pay."

"A... after?" Lovino squeaked, clearing his throat in hopes that it would return his manliness. Antonio's lips were far too distracting.

He nodded, and his hands started pulling the apron away. "Unless you want to stop right now and continue cooking." But considering how much his boxers were tenting, he was pretty sure that Lovino wouldn't want to stop.

"Fuckin' tease." Even as he said so, his arms slid around Antonio's neck. His breath hitched in his throat when Antonio bit at the sensitive juncture between his shoulder and his neck.

"So, what do you want? Do you want me to suck you?" Because he still loved giving blow jobs, no matter what. And he would love it even more if it was Lovino's cock in his mouth, hearing his moans.

Lovino shivered at the thought. "You look so eager," he said, his spine arching when Antonio's hand moved over the hardening flesh. Taking that as permission, Antonio dropped to his knees.

"I'll make it good, I promise." He flipped the apron up and grabbed the base of Lovino's cock. It tasted a bit salty when he licked the tip, and knew that was probably from a bit of precome. Lovino leaned heavily on his elbows against the counter, his legs slowly losing strength as Antonio licked him all over. When those damned curious teeth nipped lightly at the foreskin he made a strangled noise, his hips involuntarily jerking forward. His cock slid across Antonio's cheek. "Fucking hell, Antonio!"

He chuckled before taking it into his mouth, sucking on the head. Antonio hollowed his cheeks and went further. He was usually pretty good at deep throating, so he worked Lovino's erection deeper into his mouth. Shaky fingers slid through his hair and Lovino groaned, his hips thrusting shallowly against Antonio. "Antonio... fuck, Antonio," he breathed, keening when the talented motherfucker used his teeth.

Then, right in the middle, when Lovino was caught up in his own pleasured grunts and moans, Antonio pulled off with a small smirk. "So, sure you wouldn't want to continue cooking?" He felt playful today, and wanted to hear Lovino whine for it.

Lovino glared at him as best he could with flushed cheeks and dark, heated eyes. "Son of a bitch," he growled, his hand slipping around his own cock. "Mmnh..."

"Stop, I'll do it." Antonio pushed his hand away and replaced it with his mouth. Lovino made a satisfied sound, and he relaxed his throat to take it down as far as it would go, his lips around the base of his erection.

Lovino shook his head, little whimpering noises slipping from his lips. "A-Antonio, I can't... I can't stand.. hnn..."

Antonio knew he was close, so he sped up a bit. For just that extra bit of extra pleasure, he massaged Lovino's balls with his free hand, and felt them tightening.

"Too fucking good," he panted, his back digging uncomfortably into the counter as it arched. "Fuck, I'm coming, Antonio-!"

The Spaniard swallowed, milking all he could from Lovino's cock. The Italian slipped to the floor before him, panting hard. "Now, that was better than cooking, wasn't it?"

Lovino groaned, reaching up to grab Antonio by the shirt. "Shut the fuck up and get down here."

* * *

><p>Antonio got out of the car, looking over to his boyfriend. "So I should warn you, there is one guy here, and whenever his other personality comes out, 'Spain' comes out too." And he really doubted that he could stop him if that happened.<p>

Lovino shut his own door and glanced at the large, pristine, white modern building with tall windows and a professional lacquered ramp leading toward the automatic doors. He nodded at the receptionist who greeted them cheerfully from behind her desk. "Is there anything else I should brace myself for?" he asked as Antonio signed himself in.

"Not really. Just don't talk to Ivan and you'll be fine. Uh, he's the big Russian guy." Pretty much all he ever did was sit in the corner and creep everyone out. No one was even sure what his other personalities were like, or how many he had.

Lovino followed Antonio down a quiet hallway and down a flight of stairs. Through the door at the bottom they stepped into the rather sizable basement. A wide variety of chairs circled a table of various snacks. There were a few people milling about, some close to each other, some simply sitting and sipping at the water and juice offered. They all looked... relatively normal. Even so, Lovino stuck close by Antonio's side. Just in case.

"- So remember, half the people here actually have multiple personalities, and about half are with those people. Feel free to talk to anyone, ask questions, anything. Like that really big scary blond guy with the glasses, he's married to the littler blond guy, who has three different personalities. Just stay away from Ivan." He pointed out the people he was talking about.

"Wait... that guy's a crazy?" He pointed to the couple. The short man could almost be called pretty for his fair skin, soft features and gentle smile. He didn't seem troubled at all. The hulking mass next to him was totally scary enough to fit the bill, though. He glanced at Antonio, and reminded himself that it really didn't matter what the issue was; the person with them could be very nearly perfect otherwise. He curled his fingers around Antonio's sleeve to ensure that the Spaniard would not wander off and leave him alone.

Antonio just nodded, but looked around to make sure no one had heard. They usually didn't like the term _crazy_. "Want something to eat? It won't start for about fifteen minutes."

Lovino gave him an odd look. "You seriously want me to get fat, don't you? I'm still full after all that fucking paella you made me eat for lunch." His eyes caught someone nearing them over Antonio's shoulder and he scowled at the interruption. "There's a pale creeper coming this way."

Antonio turned around and smiled at his friend. "Gilbert! How have you been? Is Gilbird still giving you trouble?" He had never heard of someone with an animal personality before, but if it was anyone to have it, then it would be the albino.

"Yeah man, little dude will be with me my whole life. I don't mind though, he's not like yours." He glanced briefly at the other brunet in a blasé fashion. A bit offended by the snub, Lovino looked about to see if anyone was looking toward the albino or hovering near him. With a sneer he asked, "Alone?"

At this, Gilbert gave him a red-eyed glare. "Of course not! Well, I mean, like it's not like I'm _alone_, I just don't have anyone like here or anything." Because this really wasn't the place to tell everyone that he had been sleeping with Matthew Williams, the psychologist who organized the whole thing.

Antonio, knowing his friend well, gave a quick laugh. "Sure, Gil, sure. Though Gilbird might not agree with you." It was pretty funny, since the albino's alternate personality made it incredibly obvious who he was dating. Whenever the 'canary' came out, he would go instantly to Dr. Williams and start pecking at him. Still, everyone pretended they didn't know.

Lovino glanced back and forth between the two in slight confusion. Ah well, there were just things it was no use questioning, he supposed. The Italian jumped a little at a tap on his shoulder. He turned sharply and was greeted with a bright smile.

"Hey, I'm Alfred. You're new here, aren't you?" The American held out his hand for a shake, knowing that his boyfriend would bitch at him if he wasn't being a 'gentleman'.

Lovino observed the golden boy for a moment before reaching out to shake his hand. "Lovino Vargas," he said, nearly wincing at the other's firm, enthusiastic grip. "This is my first time. Er, I'm not... you know..."

Alfred threw an arm around his shoulders abruptly. "A support meeting virgin, huh? Cool. I'm with someone by the way— I don't have different personalities either, only this amazing one. And you're with Toni, I guess? I know how you feel. Arty's other personality is pretty violent, too." Of course he didn't say that at times he liked it. Really, _really_ liked it.

Lovino felt his knees buckle at the weight of the arm. "Fuck, do you bench press buses or something?" he cursed, glaring at the American. "Do you assault every new fucker, or am I just lucky?"

"I'm not assaulting you! I'm welcoming you to the club!" He took him to the food table, because, well… he was getting hungry. Alfred nearly whooped in joy as he saw mini burgers. "It was actually by brother who introduced me to my love bunny. My bro is the guy who started this group here. He's the psychiatrist."

Lovino could only go where Alfred dragged him, flailing a bit before the American shoved a plate of food into his arms and started piling it high. "What the- I can't eat all of this!"

But the American just started on his own plate. "Don't worry about it! The food's free anyway." A mistake when he was there. Then Alfred pointed across the room to a blond guy with big eyebrows. "That's my boyfriend. Isn't he the cutest? Though he should really get his brows fixed. They just look bad."

Lovino stared in wonder at the sight. "Holy shit," he marveled. "There's no way those are real. Are they going to fucking eat me?"

"They're totally real. But to be honest, when it's his other personality, they look really hot on him." Alfred started stuffing food into his face, barely pausing to chew.

Lovino felt his stomach churn at the sight and looked away. "So... wait." He frowned. "You get along with the other side? How? It's not really him."

Alfred smiled fondly, watching Arthur talk down to people about their grammar. "But it _is_ him. Just another part of him. That's the way I think of it. Both of them love me, so what's wrong with me loving both of them?" He took a bite of another mini hamburger. "And besides, some nights in bed it's almost like having a threesome!"

He watched the cranky Brit from across the room. "They must be really fucking similar if you can think that way," he mumbled, considering the world of difference between Spain and Antonio. "Don't they get... I dunno, jealous of one another?"

"They used to, in the beginning, but now we work together. And they're not similar— they're really different, actually. Arthur gets angry and stuff, but never violent. His personality gets violent a drinks a lot, but I love them both. In different ways, I guess, but it's still love." Proof of that lay in his pocket, actually. A packet of tea for Arthur, and an eye patch for The Captain.

Lovino opened his mouth to mention his own dilemma but sealed it again, surprised at himself. He _never_ opened up to people. Alfred and his blatant, simplistic honesty was dangerous. "At least you're bigger than him," he said after a moment. "When the shit hits the fan, I mean."

He shrugged, because really when the Captain was out, size didn't matter. "What's it like with 'Spain'? He has quite the temper. Well, when provoked." Everyone there remembered the first time he had come out at a meeting. Hopefully Antonio's and Arthur's personalities would stay away for the next few hours.

Lovino grimaced. "He's a crazy motherfucker if there ever was one. He's a fucking dick about Antonio, too. Ungrateful bitch." The Italian stared at the plate in his hands. "I can't even _imagine _getting along with him."

Alfred, having been in his strange relationship for a few years now, was used to helping others. "You may have to, if you want to stay with Antonio."

The words sent unbidden tremors down Lovino's spine and he turned to Alfred, opening his mouth to demand an explanation, only to be cut off by a gentle voice calling out to the room for attention. He glanced over to find the source of the voice but didn't seem to be able to find it. Neither did anyone else, as quite a few people were looking about with puzzled expressions on their faces. Alfred, though, waved at someone across the table. "We starting, Mattie?"

And then Lovino could see him; a man who looked... quite a bit like Alfred, actually, but with longer hair and darker eyes. "Yes, we're starting. Would everyone please find a seat?"

Antonio saved the seat next to him for Lovino. "Sorry about that, I haven't seen Gil since the last meeting," he whispered, not to disturb anyone else. He didn't like talking when Dr. Williams was in charge, because it was difficult enough for him keeping everyone's attention.

Lovino shrugged, rolling his eyes when Alfred threw his arm over the huffy Brit's shoulders and waved at him with the other. "I was suitably entertained," he assured him, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man who had called the room to attention stayed standing while everyone else sat, smiling softly at the entire circle. "Good afternoon!" he said. "I see some new faces this morning. Welcome." Lovino felt Antonio squeeze his shoulder and crossed his legs. The quiet blond took a seat between a rather tall man with a scar on his forehead and a pretty blond girl with bright green eyes and a silly smile on her face. "It's been a while since our last meeting. Would anyone like to share any news?"

The short blond Antonio had pointed out earlier stood up, a gentle smile on his round face. "This doesn't really have to do with my condition, but I would just like to say that Berwald and I are in the process of adopting a child." There were applause for the happy couple, and he sat down. Lovino 's eyebrows lifted. They must have been doing something right if they could go through all of those long tests and trials for adoption with... how many did Antonio say... three personalities. Fuck. Weren't they just the perfect couple.

Matthew's smile was bright. "That's wonderful, Tino! You would make wonderful parents. Would anyone else like to share?"

A few more stood up, most of them saying good things. Usually the bad testaments didn't come until later. Finally, Antonio stood up and put his hand on Lovino's shoulder. "We started dating, and since then 'Spain' has been coming out less and less. It's all thanks to him."

At a round of applause and all of the attention focused on the two of them, Lovino felt his face grow hot. He avoided everyone's gaze and very lightly (an admittedly pussy move on his part) kicked Antonio when he sat back down. Very slowly, as others began to speak, he leaned closer to Antonio until their shoulders touched.

When they came full circle, Dr. Williams had a bright smile on his face. "There are so many great things happening in our lives. They're always good to hear. The joy is contagious." His expression softened. "I've heard from a few of you in the past month that have had some sad news. This is a circle of friends and people who care and understand, so please, if there's something on your chest, don't hesitate to let it out."

There were a few people who spoke up, for example Gilbert explained (in very graphic detail) that 'Gilbird' still wasn't trained to use the bathroom. Tino expressed his nervousness of raising a child with three different personalities, but every one around the table reassured him that they wouldn't be a problem, because all his personalities were mild. One of them even seemed to be a girl.

Finally, Ivan stood up, surprising everyone. Usually, he got to listen to everyone's problems, but this meeting was rather boring. So, he said the three words that everyone knew not to say around Arthur. "Aye aye, Captain."

A heavy silence swept over the room. Lovino squirmed in discomfort, looking to Antonio for an explanation only to see him turn a little pale. And then from the silence a deep, ominous chuckle sounded and Ivan sat with a satisfied smile on his face. Quickly, Matthew stood, his expression one of concern.

"... Captain?"

"Aye, lad," Arthur's voice crept out of that creepy-as-fuck smirk on his face. His rolling accent was dark, rich and dangerous. One of his eyelids lay closed, the open one dark and intent on Matthew. "Aw, don't look so surprised. Ye shoulda known someone'd want to call me out."

Matthew's shoulders dropped in exasperation.

Alfred dug in his pocket even before Captain Kirkland put his hand up to his eye. He took out the black patch and handed it to him. After years of this happening, he knew that if the Captain didn't have his eyepatch, he wouldn't stop until someone gave him one.

Antonio closed his eyes tight and turned to Lovino. "Lovi, that's the guy I told you about. I'm really sorry about this, but 'Spain' is gonna come out soon and you have t-to let them f-fight it out."

Lovino frowned. "You don't _have _to do anything," he hissed, gripping Antonio's hand. "And what the fuck do you mean 'fight it out'? Antonio?"

"He meant _fight, _you fucking idiot!" Spain growled at him, dropping his hand and quickly jumping up onto the table. Everyone had already backed their chairs away, knowing what was going to happen. "It's been a while! But always glad to see my arch nemesis!" At some point in his jump, the personality had managed to grab one of the butter knives from a tray of food, and was now brandishing it like a sword.

Arthur's personality only smirked. "I'm quakin' in me boots." Even Lovino shivered at the frightening look in that one jade green eye. "Ye're upsettin' the landlubbers, ye hell-bound scalawag." He stood, and what was Arthur's meager height seemed somehow... larger, more imposing as the Captain.

"Come on you pirate! Don't tell me you're fucking too chicken shit to fight me!" Now all the frustrations and disappointments of the last little while could be pushed aside for a good old-fashioned fight.

Alfred went over to the other side of the table and put a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Sorry you had to see this. It happens every time one of them comes out, and Ivan likes watching them." He wished the huge guy had never found out that one of the things that brought Captain Kirkland out was saying 'Aye aye, Captain'. (Admittedly, it did make watching Spongebob a bitch.)

Lovino's face twitched. "What the fuck is this?" he exclaimed. "Does this happen every fucking time?" He jumped in surprise when a ceramic bowl of cookies fell to the floor and smashed to bits as Arthur... or rather "the Captain" leapt onto the table with a raucous laugh.

"Not every meeting, if that's what you mean. Just every time the Captain and Spain are in the same room. You see, once Captain pointed a knife at Antonio, so Spain came out, and ever since then they've developed this weird thing for fighting each other. Something about the Spanish Armada." People were starting to leave the room, no one wanting to be a casualty. Alfred flinched when a tray of food crashed into a wall, but still couldn't help but admire how his lover looked when he held himself with such assurance, such poise. If only they were alone...

Lovino jumped up when the Captain lunged at Spain with a dangerous-looking fork. "They have to stop!" he cried when Alfred pushed him back . "What the fuck! I'm not going to let Antonio get hurt just because they like to duke it out like a couple of schoolyard bullies!"

"No, trust me; it's better just to let them be. The only time they have actually stopped was when Ivan wanted to join in. They both stopped for mutual will to survive." The big man in question was standing by the window, a very large, very childish smile on his face. Suddenly, both Alfred and Lovino jumped back when Spain ran across the arm of Lovino's chair and jumped off the back, with Captain Kirkland following close behind.

"Crazy fuck!" Lovino called angrily to Spain. He probably shouldn't have been surprised when the personality turned a wild eye to him then and with the speed of a proper Italian, he half hid himself behind the solid wall that was Alfred.

"Stay out of the way if you don't wanna be hurt, fucker!" Spain yelled to him before putting his attention back to the fight. "I'll get you yet you filthy pirate!"

Lovino grabbed Alfred's arm, using him as a shield when the two skittered past, knocking over chairs and plastic cups. "See?" he hissed to the American. "There's no way I could get along with the crazy fucker." He would have thrown something at the Spaniard if Antonio wouldn't have had to suffer the repercussions. "Don't you ever get worried that Arthur's gonna get hurt by the Captain?"

Alfred gave a laugh, relishing in the thought that he was being the hero by protecting him. "No, because when Arthur is hurt I get to take care of him! Besides, the Captain usually isn't this violent. Most of the time he just steals things and looks for treasure maps." Or fucks him into whatever hard surface is nearby.

"Lucky fucker," Lovino mumbled. "Hey!" he yelled at the Spaniard. "Getting a little crazy with the cantaloupe, aren't you? Be a little more fucking careful with that body."

Spain glared at him, pushing the Captain back so he wouldn't be tackled. "Shut the fuck up! It's my body, too!" He grabbed one of the platters and threw it at them in rage, intending for it to fly over their heads. However, he didn't realize how heavy it was, and it ended up hitting both Lovino and Alfred in the face.

Pain crashed through Lovino as the heavy porcelain nicked Alfred in the cheek and flew over his shoulder to crash into Lovino's nose and brow. Lovino cried out, his vision swimming; he grabbed onto Alfred for support. He flinched when a pair of quick footsteps neared and ducked behind Alfred, praying that Spain wouldn't have any other artillery.

"Fuck the bastard, look what 'e's done to yer bonny face," came a voice softer and kinder than Spain's, and definitely not directed toward Lovino. The Italian looked through the eye that wasn't rapidly swelling as the slight form of the Captain stood in front of Alfred, his fight apparently forgotten as he tenderly cupped Alfred's face. He tutted when the American hissed. "Got you smart, didn't he? Come, beauty, sit and let me have a look at you..."

While the Captain and Alfred went off to the side, Spain stood, looking at Lovino. He gave a slight sneer. "Fuck! If you hadn't said that I wouldn't have thrown it, you know?" It really looked like the Italian was hurt... fucking shit.

At the motion Lovino winced, retreating. The hot tears leaving his eyes unbidden stung the swelling skin, which only made him want to cry more. "Gnn... s-stay the fuck back!" His stomach churned from the pain ringing dully throughout his entire skull and he slowly backed away, stumbling over a chair.

Spain clenched his fists and looked away. "Fuck! You just... Fuck!" Then he let Antonio take over, because he didn't want to deal with this and he couldn't deal with this and... it wasn't like Lovino wanted _him_ anyway. Then, all of the sudden, he was coming at Lovino, and with one eye out of commission and the other swimming with tears, he could see no expression of concern or regret; only the tall form nearing him far too quickly. His heart lurched and he scrambled back. "F-fuck, I said stay back!" he sobbed, clutching at his burning eye.

Antonio stopped, and slowly backed up. Lovino didn't want him? Well, who would after that... He held back a noise of regret and turned away.

Over at the other end of the room, Alfred was trying to push Captain Kirkland away. Seriously. he could be so violent, but as soon as he was hurt the personality turned into the motherly type! Well, motherly type that says he'll make the one who did this walk the plank. "I know it's bleeding a lot, but cuts on the face do that! It's not bad!" When he finally got away he went over to Lovino and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, 'Spain' is gone." Obviously, this couple had a lot to work out if they could get into such a misunderstanding so easily.

Lovino's fright fizzled out.

"A-Antonio?"

Definitely only crying because of the pain he left Alfred's side and was on the Spaniard in a heartbeat, hurtling against that broad back. "Fuck, you damn bastard!" he cried, squeezing him tightly around the middle. "Don't you fucking walk away from me!"

"I'm sorry… I thought you were mad at me!" Antonio turned in his arms and ran his fingers through Lovino's hair, but then quickly pulled back so he could look at his eye. "We should really get some ice on that so it doesn't swell too much." He gave a small smile and couldn't help the kiss he placed on the Italian's lips.

"Too late. Fuck, my face is the size of Cicily by now," he sniffed, wiping the tears from the uninjured half. How Antonio could stand to kiss him with all that was wrong with his face he didn't know, but he loved him for it. Antonio gingerly ran a finger along the edge of the forming bruise, careful not to hurt him.

"It's not that big. But ice will make it go down. I'm so sorry about that, the Captain and 'Spain' always make quite the spectacle." At least he had had time to warn him.

Lovino shook his head. "I provoked him. I know I shouldn't have, but it pisses me off how easily he takes over." He wished that Antonio wouldn't just resign himself to Spain's whims. It was hurting them both. Lovino lowered his even cheek to Antonio's shoulder. "Do.. all meetings end like this?"

"No, everyone knows not to say the words that trigger Captain Kirkland, so it isn't often that he comes out. And actually, 'Spain' and the 'Captain' are the only two violent personalities." There were some that were angrier, but not really violent. Antonio glanced over to the only other two in the room, who were now making out on a chair. "Maybe we should go get that ice..."

Lovino let Antonio take him by the hand and pull him from the room, blatantly ignoring the scene that was becoming more and more raunchy by the second, judging by the sound of it. "Can... can't we just go home?" he mumbled, the bright fluorescent lighting on the stairs hurting his eye.

He looked back at him and nodded. "Yeah, alright. It looks like everyone has left already anyway, and I wouldn't know where to find ice." So they went downstairs and to the car, holding hands the whole way.

He felt far more comfortable in the car that smelled of Antonio. Lovino leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. "That was a fucking trip," he murmured, contemplating the throbbing in his face.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, it was stupid of me to make you come. I'm sorry." At least he wasn't so distracted that he couldn't drive, like the last time 'Spain' had come out.

Lovino grunted. "I won't argue that the last part was a bitch, but the rest of it... was... kind of helpful," he admitted.

He glanced over at him, making sure he wasn't being sarcastic. "Really? All you were doing was talking to Alfred, though." And, though he had nothing against the man, he seemed more the type to talk about himself than be helpful.

"Yeah. He was a moron, but I think..." He understood how it was in Lovino's position, and knowing that someone had been through the same and conquered it with such a positive outcome as Alfred's was heartening. "I think I'd like to talk to him again."

So Antonio left it at that, and thought that the next meeting he would have to ask for Alfred for his number. After the disaster of today, he really didn't think it would be a good idea to bring Lovino to another meeting.

* * *

><p>Nearing the fifth month of Antonio's contract, on one particularly warm night, Lovino locked his Vespa away in the parking garage before climbing the stairs that led to the residency. He sighed deeply inside the elevator, breathing in the chemical, eternally clean smell of the paper-thin carpet floor and the musty ventilation air. His client had lived particularly far away, been terribly long-winded through the whole thing and had an odd, borderline fetishist way of picking out every little detail of Lovino's artistry and tweaking it to suit his own needs. The dark had descended upon Lovino even before he had made it out the client's door, and even his Italian blood could not have brought him home fast enough.<p>

Tiredly he opened the door and dropped his keys into the bowl before shucking his jacket and helmet on their respective racks. The house was dark, save for the warm lamplight in the kitchen, which illuminated a definite rectangle of light in the hallway. It was quiet all through the house, save for the hum of the air conditioner, so the Italian assumed that Antonio must have gone to bed. He toed his shoes off at the doorway and made his weary way into the kitchen. To his surprise, the rarely used table was set in the corner, leaving the island bare. Two wine glasses stood pristine and clear beside two of his more fancy plates and the silverware made of real, heavy silver. He glanced around to see if the Spaniard was lurking anywhere, but could see neither hide nor hair of him.

In fact, Antonio was picking some tomatoes, because he wasn't sure when Lovino was going to be home and besides, they were ripe and needed picking. With a handful, he went back inside and closed the door. "Oh, you're home!" he exclaimed, looking over to the Italian. Shoot, he had wanted to welcome him home. As if a flustered-looking Antonio with a handful of tomatoes wasn't a proper welcome. Lovino visibly relaxed, nodding to him. "You've been awfully busy," he said with the barest undertones of amusement, glancing toward the table.

"Yeah, well we didn't end up doing anything for our one month anniversary, so I thought I would make a big deal about the second month." He pulled out a chair for Lovino and gestured for him to sit.

One eyebrow curved high, Lovino sat, allowing Antonio to slide him forward. "I don't smell anything cooking," he said, smoothing a thumb along the white tablecloth he only pulled out at Christmas.

"I know. You told me that you would be late, so you would have already eaten. So we're having a romantic dinner, without the dinner." After all, they could still talk and have the romance without the heavy food.

Lovino leaned back, a smirk forming on his face. "Stupid," he said with no small amount of affection. "I told you that so you wouldn't think you had to stay up." His eyes followed as Antonio's long, dark fingers bathed the plump tomatoes under the faucet before letting them roll into a bowl on the table.

He shrugged, and went to sit down when he was finished. The candles were burning bright, letting a fresh scent into the air. "I didn't want to go to bed without you. You've spoilt me, you know."

"Me?" Lovino scoffed incredulously, then caught himself. "Damn fucking right, I have. But you can't pin all the blame on me, bastard." He grabbed a tomato and took a bite, licking out the sun-sweet juice. He watched Antonio's smile and hid one of his own behind the deep red fruit. "So a tomato snack is your idea of a romantic non-dinner?"

"Well you already ate, right? And so did I. So your favourite snack is just a raw tomato." At least he hoped Lovino had eaten and not just gone without anything, like he was known to do when driving. Antonio took a tomato for himself, but he added a little salt before biting into it.

"Presumptuous fucker, aren't you?" Lovino chided with another bite. He stood then, padding over to the pantry. On his tiptoes he reached back into a tall dark shelf with his free hand, frowning when he could not find what he was looking for. "Dammit, you bastard. Did you take my wine?"

He pulled out the bottle from the cupboard near his chair. "I took it out for this. I thought it would be a good occasion." After all, he already had the wine glasses on the table, so obviously he was planning on having wine.

Catching Antonio's expression Lovino rolled his eyes and returned to his seat in a huff. "Right, like I was supposed to know. You got the good silverware out without anything to use them on, so why should the glasses be any different?"

The Spaniard poured them both glasses, Lovino wanting (and therefore receiving) more. "So how was your client? Did it go well?" He loved hearing about his clients, because they were all so different and interesting.

Lovino rolled his eyes and proceeded to tell Antonio at length of his obnoxious client and the massive house he was supposed to perfect down to every tiny detail. Half a glass in, his foot accidentally brushed Antonio's ankle. He hadn't been expecting the Spaniard's own to creep up his calf a short while later, but didn't object to it. It was too comfortable in his cozy apartment, the lazy warmth of wine bubbling through his body, and what was perhaps the most handsome man in the world across the table, just smiling at him.

"What the hell are you grinning at?" he mumbled, circling the wet rim of the glass with his forefinger.

"Just you. You look so cute with the candle light, your rosy cheeks, and the bit of tomato juice dripping down your chin." Antonio gave a laugh as Lovino quickly rubbed at his face. "You got it."

Lovino took another sip of wine, one of the last in the glass, to hide what he could of his face. "W-what the fuck ever, tactless bastard." He noticed that the other had barely drunk half of his own glass. "That's good wine, you know," he defended with the tiniest pout. "You'd better fucking appreciate..." His words fell short as the Spaniard's appendage slid higher, his knee sliding against Lovino's lower thigh.

Antonio was pretending to not realize what was going on under the table, and was doing a pretty good job. "Appreciate what? The wine or..." He slid his leg just a bit higher, "you?" Now he definitely knew that the blush on Lovino's face wasn't from the wine. But he did take another sip, and grinned. "Because you are right, it is delicious. Then again, so are you."

Lovino felt a little dirty when his legs automatically parted at Antonio's touch instead of snapping shut. He berated himself inwardly for being such a slut, watching Antonio over the rim of his glass. "T-the wine of course... nn..." He bit his lip, equal parts anxious and hopeful when Antonio's foot crept along his inner thigh.

"Really? Because I think you taste better than the wine." And he remembered exactly what Lovino tasted like. It seemed like it wouldn't be too much longer till he got to taste it again, going by just how dark the Italian's eyes had gotten. "Are you alright? You are really flushed. Are you drunk already?"

"Fuck," Lovino replied, dropping his empty glass onto the table and grabbing Antonio's ankle. "T-touch me with your hands, you fuckin' weirdo," he groaned, glaring at the tanned Spaniard. Antonio gave a laugh and took his foot away. "At the dinner table? But this is where we eat… surely you wouldn't want me to touch you _here_."

Lovino's body burned far too hot for that statement to be true, but there was no way he could ever let Antonio know. His way of keeping the other in the dark was to stand and round the few feet to Antonio and lean over, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. "Anywhere. _Now._"

"Well," Antonio made a show of looking at his watch, "it's pretty late. Maybe we should go to the bed?" The quirk of his eyebrow said plainly that no matter how late it was, they wouldn't be sleeping. Not for a while, at least.

Lovino's eyes, a deep, molten gold, narrowed. "The longer you wait," he breathed, "the less likely it is that you're going to get any, you coy piece of fuck."

That made the Spaniard stand up, and then pick Lovino up bridal-style. He was fairly light, but he instantly tried to get out. "Don't struggle! We're going to the bed, and it's not like I'll drop you." Antonio started towards the room quickly, because they were both getting a little desperate.

Lovino contented himself with a spot on Antonio's jaw that brought deep little growling sounds forth and made his body shiver. He felt Antonio struggle with the action of turning his doorknob while holding him up and grunted, biting the sensitive skin beneath Antonio's ear.

He gave a low hum, and as soon as the door was open he dropped Lovino on the bed and went after him. Antonio started kissing him deeply. But, just as they were both getting into it, he pulled back, looking down at his boyfriend. He just couldn't do this unless he knew. "Do you love me?"

Lovino's eyes, hazy and wanting, went wide. "What kind of question is that?" he said hoarsely, his fingers tightening in Antonio's hair. His heart beat sporadically against his ribcage. "Are you a moron? Why the fuck would I deal with this shit if I didn't l... love... you. Fuck."

The smile on Antonio's face was one of the biggest and brightest in the world. He lowered himself and pulled Lovino into a tight hug. "You've never said it before. I was beginning to think you only stayed with me because I cook for you."

Lovino's arms fell awkwardly around him and he frowned, his voice muffled in Antonio's hair. "Well... that's definitely part of it..." The sound of Antonio's laughter spread through Lovino with warmth and he knew, he knew that there was no reason to ask, and that the answer was clear, even to him, with every move Antonio made, but still... "And what about you? You just here for a warm bed and the tomatoes?"

"Oh don't even try that. I've already told you that I love you many times." Antonio pulled back so he could look at him, his lover, and he was still smiling. "And I'll tell you as many times as you want. I love you, I love you. I love you." Not to mention that Lovino was actually the first person he had been able to say it to with such deep, definite sincerity.

Reaching up, Lovino covered Antonio's mouth with both of his hands, flushed down to his shoulders. "D-damn, I know already. You sound like a broken record." He could barely stand the honesty in those deep green eyes. He had _never _felt so loved. "Bastard," he murmured, tugging Antonio closer.

They began to kiss again, and Antonio slowly pushed up Lovino's shirt. He could feel the hot skin against his hand as the fabric was finally removed. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He just wanted to show him how much he loved him, how much Lovino was in his heart.

"It t-takes one to know one." His breath hitched as Antonio's fingers slid over his skin, knowing him and all of his sensitivities. He kissed Antonio's jaw, his nose pressed against the dark hands. His own moved along Antonio's broad back, following his spine with lazy fingertips.

Antonio sat up and discarded his own shirt as well. "So," he bent down and started kissing his way down Lovino's stomach, "what do you think about maybe going all the way?" He had been thinking about it, and really hoped that the smaller brunet would agree to it. Just to be joined that way, so intimately; to experience the intensity and the pleasure of complete unity... he wanted that.

Lovino's body tensed in anticipation at the words. "Aren't you a fucking gentleman?" he breathed, lifting one leg and draping it over Antonio's back. When a little bite was given to his ribs, he nearly swooned. It was more difficult than it should have been to keep himself in control. "Mmng... l-let's see if you can earn my ass, bastard."

So he took the challenge, lifting Lovino up enough to slip his pants off, pinching the skin of his butt as he did so. The pants went to the ground, and he started licking at the skin just above the course hair there. "I'll have you begging for it by the end."

"Like fuck you- ah!" He clapped a hand over his mouth as the wandering hands found their way between his legs. It wasn't as though they had never been there before, but instead of it being the final act, he had the feeling that it was more like the beginning, and it just made him more excitable to the touch. His hips lifted of their own accord.

Antonio rubbed the bottom of his lover's cock, chuckling at the back of his throat. Lovino just had the cutest reactions. "Just in case you decide to go all the way, there is some lube in the drawer." -Which was the last thing he said before giving long licks to the erection in his hand from the base to the sensitive tip.

Lovino's lips parted behind his hands and he groaned, his head buried deep into the pillow. Through his fingers Antonio's name could be heard, a breath of passionate awe. "Mmm, fuck, Antonio," he murmured, reaching down to slide his fingers through Antonio's. The Spaniard slipped his hands under to grab Lovino's ass, bringing it up to meet him. Antonio gave a hum, closing his eyes. Lovino's foot brushed against his own erection, making the Spaniard moan and lightly thrust against the mattress.

Lovino could feel the moan all the way through his body like a wave and his head tossed and turned against the pillow restlessly. It was too much, too good, and it shook him how badly he needed it. "Nnn, m-more, don't stop," he breathed, toeing the hardness.

Those sounds were just magnificent, and Antonio wanted more. He took his mouth off, but continued stroking the throbbing cock. "If you want more, get me the lube." Because he was busy, and Lovino was closer to the drawer anyway. But the Spaniard knew that they would both love it so much more if he started playing with the hole so close to his fingers. Lovino's hand flew nearly of its own accord at the command, scrambling around blindly for the knob of the drawer. He very nearly pulled it out of the table, and grabbed the bottle the second it brushed his fingertips. The Italian thrust it at Antonio. "Fuck, take it, take it!"

"Eager, aren't you?" But Antonio still took the bottle and squeezed some out. As soon as he did, he had his mouth back on Lovino's cock, warming the lube in his hand. Pushing one finger slowly in, he winced a bit at how tight it was, obviously not having had anything in it for quite a long time. He wasn't alone. Lovino hissed at the stinging sensation, having very nearly forgotten how it was to be fucked. But Antonio was slow, gentle, the poster child for sensual patience. "Mmm," he hummed, his body adjusting to the smooth, slow rhythm set by Antonio's digit.

"Are you alright? We don't have to continue if it hurts too much." To try to ease the pain, Antonio sucked on the foreskin, knowing how much Lovino liked that.

"Don't stop," he repeated breathlessly, craning his neck to give Antonio a half-insisting, half-pleading gaze. His legs lifted to wrap themselves about his upper back. "Please. K-keep going."

Antonio gave a nod, and pushed in another finger. "How long has it been?" Not that he would be at all jealous of the last guy to screw his boyfriend. That would be crazy, right? He was just asking... so he would know how much he had to prepare him.

Lovino's back arched and he keened. "Mahh... f-fuck, how am I s'posed to remember that stupid shit?" he groaned. "Year, maybe, maybe more.. yeah, right there, fuck, _Antonio._"

Soon he was adding the third finger, going for the same spot that Lovino obviously loved, because each time he hit it, the shaft against Antonio's mouth would twitch. "Just tell me when you're ready, Lovi."

"B-bastard," he said with a hitch in his breath every time Antonio ran his fingers over that wonderful cluster of nerves, "I'm gonna come if you d-don't stop..."

He pulled his fingers out, and gave one last lick to Lovino's cock before going up. "Alright, I'm going to come in, hold onto me." The legs around Antonio's back tightened, and he lifted the Italian up, putting a pillow under his hips.

Lovino buried his face in the crook of Antonio's neck and held on to his hard shoulders, his nails digging in when he felt the head of Antonio's cock press against his entrance. He felt naked all over again and whimpered as Antonio slowly breached yet another of his barriers.

"Are you alright?" Antonio paused, just the head of his erection in the tight ring of muscles. Lovino gave a small nod, so he slowly pushed in deeper.

The feeling of slowly being filled was so foreign and painful, beautiful and bittersweet that quick tears pooled in Lovino's eyes. He'd been fucked before, fast and slow, but never with such love and care. Like he was worth something. Like he was special. He moved to see Antonio's eyes, his nose bumping the other's. "I fucking adore you, you bastard," he whispered, slowly lifting his hips.

Antonio's heart soared, and he felt happy tears prickle at his eyes. They didn't fall, but he had to blink to keep them in. "I love you so much," he whispered, and then made a quick thrust and felt Lovino shudder under him. "You're so perfect, my perfect Lovi."

"S-shut up," he mumbled, moaning low in his throat at the urgency in Antonio's pace. It was dishonest of him to pretend that he didn't feel warm and wanted at every word Antonio offered, that he didn't take them to heart. But crying during a fuck definitely wasn't appealing so he found Antonio's shoulder again and hid his face there, tightening marginally and relaxing around Antonio's girth.

He turned his head, kissing Lovino's neck. Antonio continued thrusting, moaning at the clenching warmth. Lovino's erection was sliding against his stomach, leaving a sticky line. "You feel so good, so _so _good." Working hard at trying to simultaneously rut against Antonio's abdomen and keep him from slipping out was proving a little difficult and Lovino grunted, nipping at the taut, tan skin of his neck."Tell me you love me again, please -oh God!" Antonio reached down and grabbed Lovino's manhood, stroking it in time with his thrusts, enjoying it when he clenched around him.

"I l-love, hnng..!" He gasped as Antonio found the glorious gland and swiped a thumb over his cockhead in unison. "Fuck, Antonio, I love you, fuck, fuck, you're fucking- _nng_!"

That only made the brunet thrust faster, and then he pulled Lovino up so that he was sitting on his shaft. "Move your hips." Antonio helped him move, now leaning against the headboard, and his hand was still moving up and down at an increasingly quick pace.

"S-slow down, dammit, I want to enjoy this," he huffed, locking his arms around Antonio's neck before contracting his thigh muscles and sliding up and down, Antonio's cock resting deep inside.

Antonio stopped stroking his cock, he just held the head, rubbing it with his thumb. "We come at the same time, alright? Together?"

The gentle circles were nearly worse that the frantic pumping and Lovino tightened around Antonio. "Not gonna make it if you're taking your sweet time," he mumbled, red-faced.

"Mn, no, gonna come soon, kiss me ple-_ahh_!" Antonio pushed forward, their lips colliding, and he started stroking Lovino's cock again so they would be able to finish together. He was thrusting faster, deeper into him, and the building pressure suddenly exploded inside him.

Feeling Antonio spill himself as deep inside of Lovino as he could possibly go, the Italian shuddered and cried out against Antonio's lips as he came. Opalescent fluid dripped down his hard shaft and over Antonio's dark fingers as he milked Lovino. The Italian's russet strands tumbled over Antonio's shoulder as Lovino rested his head there, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't even find it in himself to lift up just once more to allow Antonio to slip out of him.

They were both breathing heavily, Antonio practically holding Lovino up with a hand on his back. Slowly, he lowered the Italian down to the bed, his limp cock sliding out. "Now you look tired," he whispered, kissing Lovino's forehead.

He received a grunt in reply, a sun-loved arm pulling Antonio down. "I was tired before," he insisted, wincing at the ache and odd squishy feeling when he moved his hips.

"So now you must be even more tired. Go to sleep, I'll get a cloth and clean you off." He got out of the bed, because he didn't want to leave Lovino to deal with it in the morning. The bathroom was cold after the hot bed, but it didn't matter as he was in and out within a minute, a warm, damp cloth in his hand. His lover was already asleep, so Antonio quickly dipped the cloth between his thighs, cleaning up everything there.

Antonio threw the cloth on the ground, climbed back in bed, and succumbed to heavy, sated sleep against Lovino.


	9. Chapter 9

The rays of the evening summer sun warmed the bedroom in a deep yellow glow, instilling a feeling of deep drowsy contentment in the inhabitants. Lovino closed his eyes, listening to the sound of a distant bird through the open window, the petal-soft rustle of the curtains brushing against themselves as a calm breeze rolled through, and the occasional slice of sharpened metalon auburn. Antonio's hand combed through his hair again, pulling it just taut enough to even it out with the other strands before snipping away, another lock falling onto the hardwood floor.

"How long do you want it?" Antonio asked, clipping the hair around Lovino's ear, making sure to make it the same as the other side without getting any of the skin. It was a lazy Saturday evening hadn't done much of anything all day.

"Not short," he mumbled in return, lifting his eyelids marginally to glance up at Antonio through the mirror. "I just want it out of my way so I don't have to flip it or some faggy shit."

He chuckled at that, and turned Lovino's head a little. "I could cut it like your brother's. His hair style would look cute on you." Though he was pretty sure Feliciano's bangs were too long for him to completely duplicate the look.

Rolling his eyes, Lovino leaned down to nip at Antonio's wrist out of spite. "Why don't you cut me a sweet smile and an adorable disposition, as long as we're on that subject?" he said sarcastically, straightening to where Antonio had put him.

"Hm, that might make you more agreeable." Antonio grinned, giving the Italian's shoulder a squeeze to show he was just kidding. "Actually, last time I went to see Dr. Weilschmidt, Feliciano gave me an apple." Though he would have preferred one of Lovino's tomatoes.

"Give the kid a medal for generosity," Lovino answered with a sigh. It was too warm and comfortable to get riled by the conversation, though it was one that never gave him pleasure. With a glance in the mirror, though, he could see the Spaniard's focus, the precision and care with which he cut Lovino's hair, a little peek of tongue poking out of his lips in concentration, and his heart softened again. "Being agreeable is overrated. You get monopolized by oversized German bastards."

Antonio went around to the front of the chair so he could work on his bangs. "Don't say that. Ludwig is a very nice man." After all, if it wasn't for him, he would have never met Lovino.

Lovino chose to remain quiet, closing his eyes to shield them from the scissors and the hair and the look on Antonio's face that just made Lovino want to kiss him. Hands warmer than the rays of sun cupped his chin to move him where he pleased, and it came to Lovino in a funny sort of way that where just months ago he would be spitting mad at the action, now he didn't mind at all.

When he was done the bangs, Antonio leaned forward to steal a kiss. "What should we have for dinner? I'm getting a bit hungry… when I'm done your hair we should make something." He was making sure that both sides were the same length, and when he was satisfied that they were the same he went to the back again.

Lovino hummed quietly in thought. 'Something Italian' was his default answer, but he was in a particularly generous good mood. "Whatever you want," he said, and made sure to keep in character by adding on a mumbled, "since you're cooking, and all," at the end. His face prickled oddly after the kiss in a way it never had before, and Lovino pondered it for a moment as the scissors snipped away at the back of his head.

"Alright. How about something light, like a salad?" It was too hot out to have the oven on, after all. Finally Antonio was content with how Lovino's hair was, so he brushed some off and put the scissors away. He got the broom that he had placed there and started sweeping it looked him over thoroughly when he bent over to sweep the hair into a dust pan when it finally clicked. "Wanna eat before or after I get you to shave?" he asked with a smirk.

Antonio stood up once all the hair was in the dust pan. "What, you don't like it? I was thinking of growing a beard." Antonio rubbed his chin, feeling the dark stubble there. Not a big beard, just enough to make him look a bit older. After all, a lot of the other physiotherapists in his office were growing beards.

Lovino made a face that immediately vetoed that particular idea. "You _want_to look like a fucking creeper?" the Italian asked incredulously, one skeptical eyebrow raised.

"I think it looks good. And then I can do this." Antonio went to Lovino, took him by the chin, and rubbed his face with the squawked in protest, half of him trying to push Antonio away, and the other half trying not to laugh. At least his smile wasn't terribly large, he reconciled with himself, and nipped Antonio's nose as it passed.

"If you're going to be a lazy ass about it, I'll shave it for you."

Now that was a rather appealing offer. "Alright, if you promise to make me look sexy."

"It's going to take a lot more than a shave to do that," he teased, taking Antonio by the wrist connected to the hand that so gently cupped his chin and leaned up to press a kiss to the lips that hovered just there. He wrinkled his nose at the scratchy feeling, though, and pulled back. "Yeah, no more of _this _until your face is smooth as a baby's ass." He stood, going to find his very expensive, very efficient razor in the cabinet, glancing over his shoulder to look at Antonio, who had not entered the bathroom. Rolling his eyes, Lovino wet a washcloth with warm water. "Get in here, you crazy bastard; I'm not getting shaving cream on my floor."

Antonio went in the bathroom and sat down on the lid of the toilet, figuring it would be easier for Lovino if he was sitting. After all, he was much taller than the Italian. "Be careful. I don't like it when I get a cut."

"Have a little faith, punk," Lovino replied. He tilted Antonio's face up and dampened it with the cloth, his fingers running over the scratchy stubble along Antonio's jaw. He leaned down to touch his cheek to it once more, just to feel it again out of pure curiosity. His lips found the lobe of Antonio's ear as if he could pretend that he wasn't a little interested in the coarseness, that he was simply trying to tease.

Anronio closed his eyes, wondering just when Lovino had found out that his ear was his weak spot. "If you keep being this sexy, I can assure you that shaving will be the last thing on our minds."

Lovino smiled faintly at that and kissed his jaw once more, gently pulling back. "Don't get me fucking started," he warned, taking his brush and the tin can of his imported Proraso shaving cream. Finding the half-straight, half-bending position awkward and uncomfortable, he hopped up on the long marble countertop. "Come here."

"Alright. Are you gonna give me the best shave of my life?" Antonio stood up and went in front of him, right between Lovino's spread legs.

"You'd better fucking believe it," Lovino affirmed, dabbing the brush in the expensive cream. He brushed it over Antonio's strong jaw and cheeks, breathing in the fresh scent of eucalyptus and menthol. "Now hold still. I don't want to nick you."

Antonio stayed as still as he could, feeling the sharp razor glide across his skin. It was interesting watching how much he was concentrating on getting him shaved well. Lovino's eyes were firmly attached to his jaw as the razor moved against his skin. When Lovino was finished, he glanced over the brunette's head to look at himself in the mirror. "Wow! It looks good! Thank you, my little Lovi~" He lifted Lovino off the counter and took the Italian in for a hug.

Lovino made a noise and stretched his arm back to grab the cooled cloth, wiping the last of the cream from Antonio's face. "What have I told you about calling me stupid things?" he chastised, pressing the cold cloth to the back of Antonio's neck.

"But it's such a cute name. I would love a name as cute as yours." He bent down and once again rubbed his face on Lovino's cheek, and pulled back grinning. "How smooth is it? Does it feel good?"

"Smooth as fuckin' silk, just like I promised." He leaned up, kissing the freshly shaven cheek. His hand cupped the other and he tilted his head just so, touching his lips to the Spaniard's.

The taller brunet pulled him closer by the belt loops, tilting his head back so they could kiss deeper. Antonio ran his fingers through Lovino's newly cut hair, the feeling silky between his fingers. Maybe dinner could wait just a little longer...

Lovino groaned into his mouth, tasting just a bit of the eucalyptus there, the rest a toothpaste-fresh Antonio flavor. "Mmh," he breathed, pulling back for a breath, tilting his head when eager Spanish lips began a brave trail down the side of his neck. "You going somewhere with this?"

"Maybe I am. After all, we haven't done it here yet." They had been slowly making their way around the house after that first time, finding which rooms were more appealing. For instance, they had found that screwing Lovino over the desk in the office was actually better than on the couch in the living room.

"What the fuck ever," he murmured, curving his awakening body into Antonio's. His fingers curled into the Spaniard's dark hair. "The first time you grabbed my dick was in the shower, remember?"

He shrugged, backing Lovino up till he was against the counter again. "But we haven't had sex on _here_. It's different."

"You think sinks are kinky?" Lovino asked with a smirk, lifting one leg about Antonio's waist. He nipped at his earlobe, knowing exactly how to drag a reaction from his lover.

Antonio chuckled against his neck. "If you're there, any place can be kinky." He would be willing to have sex with Lovino anywhere, even a church. Well… maybe not a funeral parlor, so _almost_everywhere.

"We'll have to take a trip to a European beach one day," he mused, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Just the thought made his heart and cock throb. "A secluded one in Sicily. Give the rocks something to look at."

"Mm, record it so we can watch it over and over. Or maybe we could move there and have sex on the beach all the time." Antonio slipped his hand up Lovino's shirt, flicking his nipples, twisting and pinching them. "Or in the ocean, that would be nice too."

"I'd get sand permanently stuck in my asscrack," Lovino snorted fondly. But the idea was appealing, and if there was anyone in the entire world he'd give up his job, home and security for, it would be the stupid bastard currently sending delightful shockwaves of pleasure through his nipples. He lifted his hips to Antonio's, feeling the hardness there with a groan. "Mmn... white beaches all to ourselves and a real fucking tomato garden..."

That made Antonio let out a low groan. "We could make love in the garden, have more than tomatoes, have all kinds of fruits and vegetables, and flowers, lots of flowers." The thought of fucking Lovino in a garden of orchids, his dark skin melding with the creamy white of the beautiful flower...

"Sh-shit, fucking romantic." Lovino mouthed the curses against Antonio's neck. He found it almost difficult to remove his rocking hips from Antonio's, but he forced himself, and quickly slid his hand past the elastic of Antonio's pajama bottoms and his boxers to lift his hot, hard cock from their confines. His mouth very nearly watered for a taste of it, and he was considering sliding down, his knees unlocking themselves, when the most loathsome and unwelcome sound rang through his home.

The doorbell.

He growled, his hand marginally tightening its grip on the weeping cock. It might be important, probably more important than getting off with his tenant, but he probably should...

Antonio groaned, leaning his head back. "C-can we just ignore that?" He gave a small thrust into Lovino's hand, bringing his own down to squeeze the head. It was a Saturday, and no one important would come on a Saturday, right?

"You only say that because I'm holding your dick," Lovino grumbled throatily, biting Antonio's neck. He was seriously considering it until it rang again. He made a noise of frustration and let go of the pulsing heat. "Fuck, Antonio."

He closed his eyes and gave a painful moan. "Fine, fine, you go down, I'll... try to get _this_ down." Antonio tried thinking about old granny's, starving children in Africa, dead cats. Something worked, at least enough for him to pull up his pants and not have it be completely though Lovino wanted nothing more than to push Antonio against the bathroom door and go down on _him,_the doorbell had begun to chime every half second and he groaned loudly, knowing exactly who it had to be. His erection died quickly, painfully as he trotted down the stairs. "Fuck, Feli, I'm coming, geez!" He yanked the front door open, flustered and frustrated, to reveal none other than the cheerful brunette.

"Hi, Lovi!"

Antonio made his way downstairs and grinned when he saw the happy secretary bustling into the house. "Feli! How are you? Oh, you look so cute today~" He went and hugged him, and moved to the couch. "Is anything new? Are you just coming for a visit?"

Feliciano smiled and bounced about on the sofa, his tone bubbly. "Yes! Well, no, I have a favor to ask, but I did come for a visit~" The younger twin watched as Lovino perched himself in the chair across from the sofa and noticed the air around his brother. His grin turned coy. "Ve, were you two doing something naughty?"

Both Feliciano and Antonio laughed when Lovino practically fell off his chair. Antonio got up to pour some wine. "Well, let's just say that it would have been better if you had gotten here about ten minutes earlier." He came back with the glasses, pouring some wine for all of them.

"Or an hour later," Lovino argued with a huff. Feliciano had the grace to look apologetic.

"But I don't visit all that often, Lovi, and I missed you."

"Which means you want something from me," Lovino said. Feliciano looked sheepish.

"Well, a little, but I promise I wanted to see you, too!"

Lovino took a glass and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. "What do you want, Feli?"

"Well!" The younger bounced, clapping his palms together. "Ludwig and I are taking a weekend vacation, and I was wondering if you would watch Cannoli for me while we were gone?"

Lovino's eyes narrowed. "You want me to take in your fucking cat while you go off with that potato-fucker to who knows where?"

"I know where," Feliciano defended with a pout. "We're going to fly to Austria Thursday night and stay with Ludwig's relatives until Monday morning. If we weren't going to be gone so long I wouldn't ask, but I don't want to leave my baby alone, you see."

Antonio grinned and clapped his hands. "You're going to a trip to Austria? And meeting his family? That's so cute! Ah, I'm so jealous!" Maybe one day he and Lovino could take a trip to Italy and Spain, see both of their families. That would be a wonderful vacation, and they could go to a beach like they had talked about!

"I know, I'm so excited! He's leaving his dogs with his brother, but Gilbert has a condition like yours, and... well, he just doesn't like cats."

"Oh! Gilbert? He's in my support group! Yes, I could see why 'Gilbird' would have a problem with a cat. Of course we'll take her." He loved cats, she would fit in very well for the few days they took care of her.

Lovino spluttered into his drink. "Dammit, Antonio, you can't just let Feliciano get whatever he asks for; that's not how the world works! Besides, it's my fucking apartment, you cocky bastard!"

"Please, Lovi? Please? I know you miss her. You used to love it when she was a kitten and she crawled onto your tummy in the middle of the night, remember?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' _fine._Damn, Feli, you're such a sentimental nag."

Both of them grinned when Lovino said that, and they started talking again. Antonio asked when they were going, if they needed a ride to the airport, if he was packed yet, if he could bring him something from Austria. "Ah, you're going to have so much fun. I wish I was going with you!"

Feliciano bubbled over with excitement. "Wouldn't that be fun? Ve, someday we'll all have to go somewhere together, huh, LovI?"

"Hmm?" Lovino glanced up, dazed. He had lost focus somewhere in the conversation, the warmth of the wine settling his irritable nerves. "Oh. Whatever, sure."

Feliciano nodded and continued to chatter on until he jumped, an expression of surprise on his face. He reached into his back pocket for the phone vibrating there and stood. "That's Ludwig," he said, glancing at the message. "He wants me back home before it's totally dark. I'll drop Cannoli off on Wednesday, okay?"

The older twin nodded and stood, walking his brother to the door and accepting the kisses on both of his cheeks and returning them. "Ciao, Feli."

Antonio gave him a goodbye hug. "Don't forget to bring condoms! You never know where to get them when you're on vacation."

Lovino dug his elbow into Antonio's side and Feliciano just giggled, closing the door firmly behind himself on the way out. Lovino groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fuck. This place is going to smell like cat for weeks."

"But you'll love it! Maybe we should get a cat of our own. I would say a dog but I don't think that would be too nice to the dog in an apartment, with no place to run outside." They returned to the living room, sitting on the couch.

"Mmph." Lovino took Antonio's unfinished glass of wine and sipped at it, leaning against the Spaniard's shoulder. "I do like cats, but fuck if I want to deal with all their shedding."

Antonio shrugged, refilling each of their glasses. "We could get one that doesn't shed. I believe there are a few breeds that don't." He got up and went to the kitchen, because they still hadn't eaten supper and it was already eight in the evening..

Lovino leaned back against the trendy sofa, closing his eyes. He heard Antonio clamber about in the kitchen and smiled just faintly. "A cat and a house on the beach, huh?" he mused quietly to the room. "Fuckin' perfect." He slowly stood and lifted the glass to his lips as he made his way into the kitchen. He was warm and comfortable and a delicious product of Spain (the nation, not that fuckface personality) was standing at his stove. He leaned against the counter and just watched him. "If we're gonna get a quaint little house and a cat, why don't we just go all the way like that... that blond couple at your meeting and get a kid, too?"

He turned around quickly that he almost knocked the pot off the stove. "Adopt, you mean? That would be so perfect! I would love raising a child with you!" Antonio went and wrapped Lovino in a tight hug, almost lifting him off the ground. "Maybe we could move somewhere that allows gay marriage! And then we can live together forever!" But then he stopped and pulled back slightly. "I mean, if me saying that isn't moving too fast for you. I understand if it is, I mean we've only been dating for a few months and saying I want to get married, and knowing you, you were probably only joking about the kid..."

Lovino only rested his arms on Antonio's shoulders, though, and linked his fingers behind the dark curls, red dusting his cheeks. "I... didn't say it was a fucking joke," he mumbled. One look into Antonio's vulnerable, hopeful eyes melted any sort of opposition on his tongue. He swallowed, the taste of bittersweet wine lingering in his mouth. "You'd be... you'd be a fucking fantastic father. E-even though you are a moron."

Antonio sobered immediately. "No I wouldn't. Not with 'Spain'." Now that the surprise of Lovino suggesting the adoption of a child was wearing off, he realized all the problems with that. "Tino and Berwald can do it because all of Tino's personalities are nice, or at least mild. One of them is a girl, one of them is pretty much like a little kid, and the other... well I get the feeling that one of them is pretty kinky by the way they talk about him. But none of them are bad."

Lovino frowned down at the long, straight nose of his lover, his hands sliding around to cup Antonio's jaw. "... You'd be a fucking _fantastic_ father," he reiterated. His lips pressed against Antonio's softly, parting just slightly. "Son of a bitch, any kid would be lucky to call you _papà,_s-so... so I don't want to hear that kind of shit coming from you."

He smiled and pulled Lovino closer. "Thanks." After all, it wasn't like they would actually get a kid anyway, so what did it matter? If the Italian wanted to think that his split personality wouldn't have an effect on a kid, then that was fine. "I have to get back to cooking before it burns." Antonio kissed the top of his head and turned back around.

The sudden shift in mood made the shorter of the two pout. He knew that Spain would be something they would have to deal with before it ever came to that, if they ever decided to actually commit to a child, but he hated that Antonio would just give up the idea of something that had excited him so incredibly just moments before only because Spain was a bastard. He couldn't just continue to let Spain crumble every little hope he had at a perfect life. Antonio deserved so much more than that.

Even though he had reached up into the cabinets to grab at something, Lovino paid it no heed and wrapped his arms almost shyly around Antonio's middle, hiding his face between the Spaniard's shoulder blades. "Stupid bastard," he murmured sadly.

Antonio brought his hand down and put it over Lovino's. "I'm not being stupid, I'm being realistic. Even if I get a handle on this and was able to control him more, I wouldn't want to take the chance with a kid. I love you, and that's enough." He smiled, even though Lovino was behind him and couldn't see.

Lovino's grip tightened. "I know that, dammit," he huffed. "That doesn't make me... that doesn't make it right. Remember..." He swallowed, pressing his forehead to the back of Antonio's neck and squeezing him tightly. "Remember when you first came a-and you said that you couldn't find anyone because of Spain?"

"That's different." He continued cooking so that the food wouldn't burn, and so he wouldn't have to look at Lovino. "If it gets bad, you can leave. If we adopt a child, they wouldn't be able to do anything." Antonio even felt bad putting Lovino through it, a little kid would be ten times worse.

"I'm not saying we should. I just mean... you've gotten better at dealing with him because you..." His voice softened, unsure and vulnerable. "... You wanted something, right? S-so if you wanted it badly enough, I'm just saying that maybe someday it'll be possible, dammit."

That made Antonio smile. "Alright. Nothing's set in stone." It had been nice this little while, not having to worry about 'Spain' as much as he used to. He wondered if there would come a day when he would never have to worry about him again.

"Damn right it's not." He could hear the smile in Antonio's voice and relaxed, lifting his head to rest his chin on Antonio's shoulder. "What are you making?"

"Tomato and basil soup. Do you think you could get me some string? There is some in that drawer, I need it to tie the basil up with." Antonio pointed to the drawer, and his back felt very cold when Lovino left to get it.

"Like I don't know where my own twine is. I'll tie it," Lovino offered gruffly, tying the basil leaves together as Antonio covered the pan in olive oil and began to chop an onion for sautéing . "Your hands are gonna smell like onion all fucking night," he complained.

Antonio gave a chuckle at that. "I promise I'll wash them really well after." He wouldn't want Lovino to kick him out of bed because his hands smelled gross, after all.

"Promises promises," Lovino groused, pulling out a second cutting board and plucking a few fresh tomatoes from the basket on the table. He cut them quickly and efficiently, taking a bite of one slice and licking the juice from the cracks in his palm. Glancing over to find Antonio's eyes on him he smirked, the wine and the tomato ripening him in a more pleasant mood, and made good work of his tongue over the quick juice dribbles that ran down his fingers. "Don't cut yourself."

"Why would I cut myself? It's not like something is distracting me or anything." Antonio said sarcastically. But he was still careful with the knife, and he hadn't cut himself while cooking since he was a little kid. "Maybe we should have more wine. Nothing wrong with being a little drunk before dinner is there?"

"Mmm, alcohol and sharp implements is always a good idea," Lovino replied, but went to fetch the bottle nonetheless. He returned with the two used glasses and filled each just below halfway. He sipped as Antonio scraped all of the minced onions into the oil to sweat and went to wash the strong scent from his skin in the sink. When he returned, Lovino handed him a glass. "Not that I actually give a shit, but did you know that in some places, it's not considered consensual to engage in intercourse with someone who's intoxicated?" Lovino asked as he tasted the cool drink.

The Spaniard shrugged and took his own glass. "But we've already had sex, so that shouldn't matter. And, while I'm currently sober, I can say that I would never turn down sex with you. Within reason. I'm not going to have sex in front of an old lady, but as long as it's not anything like that I would always want sex with you."

"It's 'cause I'm fucking sexy as hell," Lovino snorted as he reached over, grabbing the skillet's handle and flicking an expert wrist to shuffle the slowly simmering onions there.

"Yes, you are." Antonio went back to cooking, with his wine glass next to the stove. It was nice, having Lovino help him cook. Up till now, Lovino had taught him how to make Italian dishes, but this was the first time that he was just helping him. "You're so sexy, I'm thinking of taking you over the counter right now."

The Italian's body involuntarily shuddered at the seductive promise in his tone and he took another tomato slice to munch on nonchalantly, pretending that he wasn't terribly intrigued by Antonio's roundabout suggestion. "That so? Can't imagine that'd be comfortable."

He simply looked over at him, a small smile on his lips. "You didn't seem to mind it the first time I sucked you off."

"But that was my _dick_ in your _mouth,_ crazy bastard," he chuckled, dipping the tomato slice in the wine and nibbling, just to try it out. "It's hard to really think about where the fuck you are and how uncomfortable it is when you've got someone sucking the living fuck out of you."

Antonio laughed outright, going over to kiss him on the cheek. "Alright, no sex on the counter then. I think the soup's done, could you get some bowls?" He took a spoon and tasted it just to be sure, and, satisfied, got another spoon out for Lovino.

Lovino smirked, shrugging. "And here I thought you were going to be a kinky little fuck and ask to lick it from my body," he joked dryly, retrieving two ceramic bowls from the cabinet.

"I can be kinky if the situation asks for it." He filled the bowls and handed one to Lovino, and they both headed to the table to eat. Antonio also grabbed some crackers, just in case they needed some.

Feeling a little brave from the flirtation and the wine, Lovino slapped Antonio's rear in passing, a poorly smothered smirk lighting on his face. "Oh yeah? I'd like to see some fucking proof of that."

Antonio rolled his eyes a little, mostly at the fact that Lovino had smacked his ass. "Well, maybe tonight. But we still have dinner, and I would rather finish eating before we get into that." Besides, after dinner they would both have had more wine, so he wouldn't feel weird bringing something 'kinky' into their routine, and maybe Lovino wouldn't hit him for it.

"That's what I thought. All talk, no action." Lovino ho-hummed, lifting a spoonful of the creamy soup to his mouth. It was tangy and thick and warm and all kinds of right. He quietly moaned his approval.

"Well it's not like you've ever suggested anything kinky either. You've never even asked me to switch it up and try being bottom." Which was fine with him; he never got as much pleasure from being penetrated as Lovino did.

"A switch in position is kinky enough for you?" He gave Antonio pitying eyes over his wine glass. "Oh, Antonio. The things I would let you do."

This intrigued him. "What would you let me do to you? Would you let me... use a vibrator on you?" He didn't have any, and would probably be too embarrassed to buy one, but the thought of seeing Lovino's hole contracting around something like that as he shook in pleasure... Well, that was yummy.

Lovino lowered his eyes and considered it. "Easily," he decided with another sip, his lower extremities warming at the thought. "Mmm, but that's not even close. Where's your imagination, _bastardo?"_

Ah. The wine must have merged into his system if the Italian was slipping out.

"Alright, then how about... wearing a vibrator in public? Maybe to a meeting with a client, and you have to keep it in all day or else you would be a very bad boy. And, keeping with the theme, I would have to punish you." Now it was pretty obvious that they were both being affected by the alcohol, because normally Antonio would never even think of saying things like that. Not out loud, anyway.

Lovino made a noise just imagining such a thing. He raised his eyes, dark and a hungry. "You're such a bastard," he growled, a heated flush darkening along his neck. "You think I'd think of you when I went to the bathroom to jerk off, don't you? Like I'd call your name when I came." His free hand slid down his abdomen in want. "Egotistical fucker."

"Well, would you? Or would that be too much for you?" The challenge was there, plainly laid on the table.

Lovino leaned forward, his smirk wide. "That's only the fucking _beginning."_

Challenge accepted.

The two bowls of soup sat on the table, more or less forgotten. "Alright, so obviously you would touch yourself, thinking of me. But that would be against the rules, right? So when you got home, I would know... because I would know. To start the punishment, I would have to tie you up, so you wouldn't be able to struggle." Thinking about it, Antonio let his hand go close to his crotch, massaging the skin of his inner thigh. "I would start with spanking, I think."

Letting his lower lip protrude just a bit, Lovino tried desperately not to touch himself. "You would spank me? That wouldn't be very nice. You'd be the one to've shoved a big, hard toy up my ass. Am I supposed to just ignore it when it's so deep inside me?"

"Not ignore it. Just wait until you see me again, then I could take it's place and you could come all you wanted. But we're past that now, because I'm still deciding how I would punish you for breaking the rules. So after spanking, I would put the vibrator back in. And since you're tied up, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

Lovino's hips shifted up, and it was almost torture not to touch his erection through the coarse fabric of his pants. "Fuck. Son of a bitch, I don't want the damn toy. I want you to show me what the fuck you can do with your own fucking cock."

Antonio grinned, and moved his chair so he was right next to Lovino, their shoulders touching. "It's a punishment, so of course I wouldn't give you what you wanted right away. What would you feel about whips? Not the type they used to torture of course, just the ones you can get at sex shops."

Lovino straightened and swung his far leg over Antonio's thighs, straddling him in an instant while his abandoned chair clattered back against the linoleum floor. "What?" he said, his hands spread motionlessly over Antonio's stomach. "You want to see me covered in marks? Want to see my ass red? Want to hear me scream?"

That sobered Antonio up a little. Not much, but a little. "No, I would never want to see you in pain. I promise that in this hipo... hypo... hypothetical situation, I wouldn't hurt you. Just spank you, and hit you a little with the whip, but not hard."

Lovino blinked. "What... oh, Antonio." His expression softened and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the Spaniard's warm cheek. _"Caro mio, _Antonio, you soft fucker." He kissed along the dark jaw, tongue and tone lilting in its normally hidden Italian cadence. Lovino slipped his hands under Antonio's shirt. "I do not think the punishment game is for you."

The Spaniard crossed his arms and stubbornly looked away. "It's not my fault I don't like hurting people. Especially you. If you want someone to hurt you then you should date 'Spain'."

Lovino, who had never seen the pouty side of Antonio, was only a little surprised before he found himself oddly endeared. He smiled a smile he only could when drunk on wine and affection, and it was pressed tenderly to Antonio's ear. "I do not want Spain," he said into the beloved shell, breathing in the scent of his dark, sweet lover. "I only want your hand, _tesoro._ It is the same in Spain, _si_?" He was odd how the tables had very nearly turned, and Lovino felt enthralled. If this was how it was to love someone so verbally, so easily, it was no wonder Antonio did it all the time. And because of it, he wondered if the other half to his whole could feel the same affirmation Lovino received when Antonio was the one speaking sweet things. He hoped so.

"Yes, it is the same." Antonio turned back, because he just couldn't refuse Lovino when he was being this cute with him. "But saying I'm your treasure reminds me too much of Captain Kirkland." Since the small Italian was straddling him, Antonio pulled him closer so their clothed erections brushed together. "I don't want to talk about sex anymore. Where do you want me to take you?"

Lovino shuddered at the feeling of being so close to Antonio, wrapping his arms until his fingers laced around his back. "Surprise me," he murmured, nipping at the sensitive spot on Antonio's ear.

Antonio thought about some place they hadn't done it yet, somewhere different and a bit wild to show that he could be kinky if he wanted... "Alright. Hold on." He stood up once Lovino's legs and arms tightened around him, and had to grab the table to steady himself.

Lovino made a funny noise at the sudden movement and held on tightly to the unsteady Spaniard, laughing a little. "Can you get out of the fucking kitchen?" he chuckled, kissing Antonio's neck.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm not that drunk." He still wobbled a bit as he took a few steps to the door, but he was sure that he could get them there, until Lovino started kissing him. Antonio pushed the Italian against the wall, made sure that his legs were still firmly around his waist, and kept on kissing him.

"Mmmh," Lovino protested as the middle of his back was prodded by the light-switch. "Mmph, 'Tonio, the light.."

He took Lovi off the wall, made it another few steps before he almost tripped over the carpet, and pushed him against the wall again. But, neither of them cared much at all, because they were being kissed, and their erections were rubbing together, still in their clothes, and they were both terribly tipsy. Finally, after much stumbling and bumping, they had made it to where Antonio was maneuvering: The balcony.

The sky was the deep, velvet blue of dusk, the stars nearly peeking out from the cloudless summer sky as one or both of the hasty lovers managed to get the sliding glass door open. Lovino had enough thought left in him to unlatch his legs from around Antonio's waist because _fuck _if he was going to end up being shoved against that railing eleven stories off the ground. But his arms tightened about Antonio's neck and his lips were parted and inviting. "Careful of the t'matoes," he mumbled into Antonio's mouth.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the tomatoes." No, definitely not. In fact, they were part of his plan. They both loved tomatoes, and when _this _drunk, that love could go a long way. "C'n I do somethin' kinky?"

Lovino pulled back, his breathing harsh and uneven. He nodded hastily before stopping. "I'm not gonna dangle over the... the fucking balcony for you, if that's what you're thinking."

"No no! I would never ask you to do that!" Antonio went into the tiny maze of tomato plants, looking for the perfect one, his hand clutching Lovino's calf for support. Finally he found it, pretty small, but perfectly ripe. "Wanna take your pants off?"

They were off in a second and Lovino stood, resting his elbows back against the sturdy rail as he watched Antonio with a curious eye. His cock reached up for Antonio, the moisture gleaming at the tip, catching the warm orange light from the living room. "You had time to eat in the... in the fuckin' kitchen," he grumbled, reaching down past his shirt to stroke the hard heat.

He went up to Lovino, the tomato in hand, and took in the sight. "It's not for me." Antonio pulled Lovino's shirt off as well, revealing his skin to the wan light of the rising moon. "You said you wanted something different, right?"

"So you're going to fuck me with a tomato? You think I'm slut enough to be screwed by fruit?" he growled, spreading his thighs nonetheless.

Antonio pushed him up against the railing, trailing kisses down his side. "I picked a small one. Besides, it will work as lube, because I didn't bring any out with me," he explained easily, and turned Lovino around so that he was facing the railing. "I'm sure it'll feel good, and I'll clean you out after." Antonio fell to his knees, spread Lovino's cheeks, and gave a wet lick to the cute puckered hole.

Lovino arched his spine with a gasp and a mewl, biting his lower lip to quiet the embarrassing noises. "Haah, Antonio, w-wait, you're gonna use that as...?"

"Basically." He squeezed the tomato just enough to get some juice on his fingers, and pushed one in. Of course, this was just the stretching. The alcohol made Antonio think it was a great idea. "Unless that would be too kinky for you?"

"Like fuck it is," Lovino groaned, parting his legs a little further and standing on his tiptoes just to lift his ass up just a little higher. "You'd better fuck me long and hard 'f you're gonna use my favorite food as lube."

Antonio figured that after he had gotten his second finger in, Lovino was opened up enough for the squished tomato. He pushed it in, which was rather difficult because it kept squishing. A line of juice ran down the Italian's leg, so he darted out his tongue to lick it up.

It was wet and warm and squishy and he knew it was weird, that any other time he would be chewing Antonio out for such obscenity, but for the life of him he could not help but throb at the thought of his lover stuffing things inside of him. "_Nnn_tonio," he moaned, pushing back, wanting his fingers. Or, you know. His dick.

Once all the tomato was in, Antonio gave a low almost-growl. "Are you ready?" He stood up and took off his pants, hard cock springing from the confines.

"I've been ready since before my little shit of a brother came over," he snapped, reaching down with one hand to tug at his abandoned erection. "Mmph, just get inside, dammit. Make me come."

Once again Antonio parted his cheeks, this time to push something much larger inside. He could feel the tomato, now a slimy mess, and it was just a bit colder than Lovino's body temperature, but quickly heating. "Mmm, you feel so good."

Lovino groaned in response, resting his forehead on the rail. A warm breeze passed, cooling lightly on the sweat of Lovino's back. "C'mon," he urged, pushing back, "faster, harder, deeper, you know the fuckin' routine."

"Mnm, how does it feel having a tomato in you?" he whispered, pulling Lovino back to meet his thrusts, as well as pushing his body forward so he was looking down at all the streets and everything below. Of course, the railing was tall enough so he couldn't fall, so he was safe.

Trying to focus on pushing back when Antonio arrhythmically moved forward, Lovino only paid half of his attention to the words coming out of Antonio's mouth. "Feels gooey as hell," he answered, taking the hand Antonio had secured around his waist and moving it to the base of his cock. "Fuckin'... nng... fuckin' love your dick, though."

Antonio moaned and moved his hand only slightly. "Yeah? You love me inside you." With his other hand, he placed it over Lovino's on the railing, twining their fingers together.

The Italian wriggled against him, his bare toes curling in a bit of spilled soil. "Dammit," he breathed, tilting his head back enough to feel Antonio's soft curls against his cheek. "I always want you inside of me, you perfect bastard." He gasped as Antonio's pace quickened and closed his eyes, peppering the heavy air with little pants and moans.

"Do you think anyone can see us from here? Maybe someone in that building over there is watching us." Antonio started nibbling on Lovino's ear, licking then biting, moving down to the lobe. "Maybe they can see us right now."

Lovino felt all the heat and tension coil in his loins and shook his head, his cock pulsing in Antonio's hand. "S-shit, Antonio, they'd be f-fucking jealous as he-ahh, don't stop!"

He made sure to angle it right so that he hit Lovino's sweet spot almost every thrust, and he began moving his hand more, up and down, as fast as his hips were moving. "You're so sexy so so sexy Lovi, I love you so much..."

Lovino came loud and hard, viscous drops of undeterred passion landing on iron bars and tomato plants alike. He thrust his hips into Antonio's hand as the aftershocks burst through him in heavy jolts, each one tearing Antonio's name and variants of it from Lovino's swollen lips.

When Lovino was finished, Antonio pulled out and gave himself a few hard strokes, and he came himself with a cry of, "Ahh -Lovi!" He pulled the Italian to his chest, panting and hot, and together they both slid to the floor, sated.

Lovino was limp as Antonio went down, sprawled with his back to Antonio's chest in the middle of the tiny garden. His eyes were heavy as he looked up at the awakening stars, his head situated comfortably in the cradle of Antonio's shoulder. Slowly, he pulled the fingers still tangled so firmly in his own to his heaving stomach, holding them there. "Don't remind me," he panted quietly, "when I'm sober that I'm such a fuckin' sap, but I... I love you, bastard."

Antonio pulled him even closer, to exhausted to do much else. "I know. I love you too." Really, even though Lovino hardly ever said it, it was usually pretty obvious what his true feelings were, at least to the Spaniard. "We should probably get you in the shower." But he made no move to get up.

"Yeah," he agreed, equally motionless. "I've had two fuckin' fruits up my ass tonight." He made a little noise and started to laugh. "Get it?" he chortled, rolling over to Antonio's side and draping an arm over his chest, his fingers reaching up to stroke Antonio's lips. "'Cause... 'cause tomatoes are fruits… and you're the most delicious fag I've ever had."


	10. Chapter 10

Howdy all! I'm really sorry this is two weeks late. I just moved and we had no internet, so obviously, editing and posting wasn't an option. (How did I survive, you ask? Well, the first five seasons of _Supernatural_ and a lot of swimming, I answer shamelessly.) Luckily, as of tomorrow, we _will_ have the internet, so from now on updates will be regular again. Yay for both of us! :D  
>(PS: Apologies in advance for the Gordon Ramsey fangirling via Lovi to follow. Bya has a ruthless attraction to him and it somehow wormed its way into this fic.)<p>

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><p>Antonio opened the door with a big smile to see Feliciano standing there with a small carrier. "Hi! Is that Cannoli? Aww, she is so super cute!" He looked in through the bars to see a sleeping cat, who was mostly pale with a few orange spots on her body and head. "And she even looks like you! She has your curly hair!"<p>

Feliciano giggled and handed her over. "Isn't she just so precious? And she's very well behaved. She loves to cuddle and she's super fluffy~"

Behind him Ludwig stood, tall and sturdy, a second carrier in his hand. At Antonio's curious gaze he handed it over. "... You look confused, Antonio."

"Oh, yes! I forgot to tell you!" Feliciano clasped his hands together apologetically before he crouched to the floor and opened the larger carrier to lift a rather decent sized, dark cat out, a ribbon of black, red and gold tied around his neck in a bow. "This is Wilhelm," he introduced up to Antonio. "Ludwig found him in a tire on the side of the road a few days ago, and since he's so sweet and kind, he brought him home. It was just the other day, I'm sorry to have brought this upon you so quickly, but could he please stay, too?"

"I can't believe you didn't remember to phone," Ludwig grumbled in exasperation.

But Antonio was already busy petting the second cat. "Oh, don't worry about it! Poor thing, someone left you in a tire?" He picked Wilhelm up, trying to make him comfortable, but the cat just looked at him, unimpressed. "I'm sure Lovino won't mind one more cat. He's just getting out of the shower, actually. I told him that you two said you would be here at nine, but he insisted that he knew his brother would be late. But look at that, right on time!" He was sure that had more than a little to do with the fact that he was with Ludwig.

"That's so mean. I'm not _always_ late," Feliciano pouted.

"But we will be if we don't hurry and catch the plane," Ludwig announced, pulling Feliciano back to his feet. He nodded at Antonio. "Thank you for taking care of them."

The Spaniard waved goodbye, and when they were gone he started looking through the bag they had brought over. There were a few toys, cat food, their dishes, treats, and a few little kitty outfits that he was sure Feliciano had gotten. He wondered if he had ever put either of the cats into an outfit, because they were not as easy as little dogs. "Alright guys, let's go see Uncle Lovi, shall we?"

He picked up both of the cats, Cannoli finally waking up and pawing lazily at Wilhem's cheeks, who just looked at her with a straight face. The water in the bathroom wasn't running anymore, so he supposed that Lovino was finished his shower. "I'm coming in!"

Lovino glanced up from the sink, toothbrush in his mouth. "'uck," he cursed around the lather of toothpaste and the white bristles. "'hought dey were gonna be late." He spit in the sink and rinsed. The face he made when he turned to see the second cat was priceless. "... What the hell is that?"

"His name is Wilhem! They just picked him up because he needed a home; I said it was alright if he stayed here too. Wouldn't want to split them up, after all. Just look at them— you can tell they're in love!" Cannoli had started purring for no reason, rubbing her face on Wilhem's, still trying to get his attention.

"Ugh, gross, Cannoli!" Lovino pulled on the folded shirt from the counter and buttoned it down halfway before he snatched the fluffy cat away, holding her against his chest. "No," he poked her tiny pink nose. "You are Italian, sweet Cannoli, therefore you do not touch muscle-bound German mongrels. Do you understand?"

Antonio frowned, holding the black cat to his chest. "Why do you think he's German? They're just cats, they were born in the States. It's alright Wilhem, Lovi will have to put Cannoli down eventually, _and then _you can have your alone time together."

"Tch! Don't encourage him!" Lovino stroked the affectionate cat, who in turn nuzzled his neck, lapping at the moisture that remained from the shower. "It has a German name and lives with that German bastard, so by default, it is German. Cannoli can do so much better."

"I think they're perfect for each other. Imagine how cute their kittens would be!" Antonio carried the cat out of the bathroom so he wouldn't have to listen to Lovino talk on and on about how they should never have kittens together, all because he couldn't break Feliciano and Ludwig apart. He was such a jealous brother.

Lovino took the cream-colored cat into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed, buttoning his shirt the rest of the way and combing his hair. "Don't listen to Antonio," he warned. Cannoli tilted her head to the side, her fluffy tail swishing lazily back and forth. "You cats aren't monogamous creatures, Cannoli. He'll bang you and leave you with a litter of kittens while he runs off with some other hussy or twelve behind the scenes. You'll be a brokenhearted single mother, mark my words."

She made a little noise at that and rolled onto her side, curling up lazily. Lovino set the comb down on the nightstand and could not help but smile a bit, scratching her behind the ears. "Just don't get pregnant when I'm gone." He strolled to the kitchen, making a face at Wilhelm. He was gravitating near Antonio, who was arranging the food bowls and toys on the kitchen floor. "I'm going to head out early. This fucker lives three towns over and I told him I'd meet him by eleven."

"Alright, I'll be here with the cats. I took the day off so that they could have time to adjust to the new home." He was trying to get Wilhem to play with a string, but the black cat just stared at it. Then, quick as lightening, he swiped at it, caught it in his paw and pulled it out of Antonio's hand.

Watching the event unfold in exasperation, Lovino rolled his eyes and bent over to kiss Antonio on the cheek in passing. "Don't let a fucking cat get the better of you."

"He's a _talented_ cat!" Antonio called over his shoulder, trying to get the string back. Unfortunately, Wilhem didn't seem to want to let it go.

He watched as Cannoli slowly made her way downstairs. She looked around a bit, but must have decided that nothing was worth her interest, so she started playing with Wilhem's tail.

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><p>Lovino's meeting went by surprisingly quickly, the couple he was designing for being just as anxious to be rid of him as he was of them, and he even made it home in time to be early for dinner. Stepping back into the apartment he paused. And then he scowled. Right there in the middle of the walkway sat that abomination of a cat, just sitting, still as a statue, looking right at him in an almost disapproving fashion. "What the fuck are you looking at, creeper?" Lovino asked tersely. "Don't give me that fucking look; this is <em>my<em> apartment!" He strode past Wilhelm and peeked into the empty kitchen. Finding no signs of life, he looked next into the living room. The television was on but Antonio was sprawled over the couch, sleeping like a baby, and Cannoli was curled on his stomach, equally as motionless. Wilhelm walked silently past and leapt gracefully onto the arm of the couch, regarding Lovino sternly. "... I wasn't gonna wake them up," he grumbled. Then, just to be spiteful, he added coldly, "That ribbon is queer as hell."

But Antonio woke up anyway at the noise, and looked over to his lover. "Oh, you're back already? It's only been-! Oh wow it's already five o'clock?" He picked Cannoli off his stomach and put her on the couch beside him. "I must have fallen asleep. Sorry, I haven't started supper yet." The Spaniard stood up to give Lovino a kiss.

Lovino returned the gesture, his hands finding themselves around Antonio's waist before he could stop them. The little hairs at the back of his neck prickled and he pulled back, only to find both of the cats staring up at them curiously. "Don't get any ideas," he growled, pulling Antonio into the kitchen.

He followed with a lazy smile, sliding their fingers together so they were holding hands. "I think Wilhem would make a good dad. Today Cannoli got stuck in the bathroom because the door closed, and Wilhem came and got me."

"Or he smelled the catnip in your pocket," Lovino said, finding a little bag of it when he slid his hands into one. "And just because he _may_ have alerted you when Cannoli was stuck doesn't mean he's gonna stick around for a litter. Kids are annoying as fuck, you know?" He began his exploration of Antonio's back pockets once they were in the kitchen, pulling the Spaniard close and tilting his face up to be kissed.

But Antonio didn't kiss him. "You don't think that Ludwig would stay? Don't look at me like that, it's obvious you think of those cats like your brother and Ludwig. I mean, if they adopted or something, I think he would definitely stay and help out."

Lovino huffed, pulling his hands out of Antonio's pants. "No," he answered with clipped honesty, rolling his sleeves up and shooting a glare Antonio's way. "Look, I know you're sweet and good and you've got the sun shining out the crack of your ass, but as far as I'm concerned, you're the only fucker in the world who isn't a heinous prick." He turned, reaching up to dig through the shelves for something quick and simple to make for dinner. "And I'm not projecting my feelings onto fucking cats. I'm not _that_ pathetic."

"So you don't trust my doctor? If it wasn't for him, we never would have even met. And I would be much worse than I am now without his help, and without the medication he prescribes me." Antonio looked at him, completely serious. "Remember, he's not only the boss and boyfriend of your brother, he's also my psychotherapist."

"If he's so fucking special, why don't you marry him?" Lovino snapped, yanking down an old Italian recipe book. He leafed through the pages without really seeing them, his relatively good mood turned completely sour.

Antonio let out his breath in a huff. "I don't want to marry him, I'm just saying that maybe you should put a little more trust in people, especially people that have helped us. I mean it seems that the only people you don't hate are yourself, your brother and me. And sometimes it feels like it's only you and your brother."

Lovino's shoulders stiffened. It only took a moment for him to recompose himself enough to scoff. "I've heard that one before," he said, as nonchalantly as one could through grit teeth. "Fuck if I've ever changed my mind. If I'm a bitch because I don't love every person I ever fucking come in contact with then fine. I'm a selfish, nasty bitch. There is _nothing_ to fucking _cook."_ He slammed the book shut and shoved it back into its place in the cabinet, snatching another.

"You don't have to like everyone. Even I don't like everyone! But at least give people a chance! You gave _me_ a chance for some reason. Why didn't you hate me right off the bat?" Antonio didn't even know why he was having this discussion, but it needed to be said. After all, if they were going to be a couple, it would be nice to be able to actually have a few friends over without fearing Lovino's wrath.

The Italian's brow furrowed and his eyes turned just to the left of the cookbook. "I don't _hate_ everyone," he mumbled, rubbing his arm. "I just think that everyone is the fucking same. I thought you were, too. Well. Dumber than most, but more of the same. I wanted to live alone after my last tenant, but Feli asked me to take you in, so what was I supposed to do? Then you started acting all nice, like everyone else, tolerating my shit, and you..." He sealed his lips, a hand over his chest. "Fuck, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine, but if we ever do get married, I refuse to be the old couple on the side of the street with twenty cats." Although he wouldn't mind having a few cats, just not twenty, and he definitely needed friends as well.

Lovino ignored the very jarring heart-flip at the word 'married' and turned, grabbing Antonio by the collar, dragging him down for a rough, heated kiss. So much for ignoring it. He only pulled back once to glare, red-cheeked and nose wrinkled. "What the fuck kinda number is twenty, you weird bastard?"

He laughed and gave Lovino a big hug. "What, would you want more? I don't care about the cats, I just want you to know that I need friends." Antonio sighed into Lovino's ear. "So, are you going to make something to eat?"

The Italian nodded in a fashion that could almost be described as demure if Lovino Vargas was not the one performing the motion. He buried his face in Antonio's neck for a moment before his eyes popped open to receive two very curious pairs of eyes gazing at them from the floor. "Fuck!" he yelped in surprise, shoving Antonio back. "Damn Feliciano and his voyeuristic cats!"

Antonio looked at them and laughed as Cannoli rolled over on her back, tail swishing back and forth. "Alright, I'll pet you." He bent down to scratch her belly, and Wilhem's head. "But they aren't voyeurs, they are just cats. Don't even know what we're doing, isn't that right?"

"Are you insane?" Lovino accused rhetorically, turning back to the cookbook and flipping through the recipes. "Cats are smart as fuck. Especially Cannoli. What do you think about pizza?"

"Pizza would be good. But if cats are so smart, then why can't you train them to do tricks like dogs? Not that I'm saying that dogs would know what we were doing either." Antonio stood up, toeing Cannoli out of the way so he wouldn't step on her.

Lovino leaned down for a brief moment to rub her silken ears before straightening again. "Cats are too smart to be trained. Dogs are dumbasses that only follow commands based on tone of voice. Get out a bag of white mushrooms, will you? Bottom drawer in the fridge. The right, bastard, not the left."

He handed over the mushrooms and closed the fridge. "Well, that doesn't matter. What matters is we can make out and stuff in front of them, because they won't care. I mean, they lick themselves in front of us and we don't care, right?"

The Italian looked up from opening the mesh bag, his expression caught somewhere between amused and appalled. "I care. Damn." He looked back at the two creatures in consideration. Wilhelm sat tall and sturdy, watching with an amazing amount of patient diligence as Cannoli pounced on him, batting his lazily swishing tail around with her little fuzzy paws. Lovino turned back to the mushrooms, rinsing them before laying a few out on the cutting board. "I don't know about that, though... they're like... fuck, I dunno. Kids or something."

"Well, that is very considerate and sweet of you. But I really hope it doesn't get between our 'alone time', because who knows where these guys will sleep tonight." And if they couldn't even kiss around them, then when was he going to get his Lovino time?

Finding himself a little warm around his cheeks and the tips of his ears Lovino clucked his tongue. "We'll just have to shut them out of the room. But all bets are off if Cannoli starts crying. Wanna help a fucker out and make the pizza dough?"

Antonio started making it, a large grin on his face. "You would be such a caring father, you know that? You wouldn't let anything get in the way of you and your baby if the baby was crying." He hoped that maybe, just maybe, one day he would be able to see for himself.

Lovino tried not to be too terribly pleased at the image the words conjured in his mind. What would be the greatest thing, though, was if the brat had dark, curly hair and deep green eyes and olive skin... damn. A pox on male anatomy. He grunted in response, slicing the last of the mushrooms and fetching the fresh pesto from the refrigerator. "Says the jerk who works with kids for a living."

"And I love every minute of it. Could you pass that spoon?" He pointed over to the basket they had them in, thanking him when he got it. "So, is Wilhem starting to grow on you? He was very good all day."

"I can't trust that judgment. You're biased," Lovino accused, rifling through his seasoning cabinet for the basil. He didn't even bat an eye when Cannoli lept up onto the counter in front of him, scooting her out of the way when he spotted the basil near the toaster behind her.

The Spaniard watched the cat with a weary eye. "That is really unsanitary... are you sure you're alright with her on there? I mean, we could get cat hair in our food." He hated it when people let their cats on their counters, because they could get anywhere and get into a lot of things.

Lovino glanced over at him and smirked. "Who's paranoid now? It's fine. Feliciano and I share the same cooking standards, so there must be some reason he trusts her if she thinks it's okay. Isn't that right, _bella?"_

Antonio was still a little apprehensive, but let it go. "So what are you going to put on it? Will it just be vegetarian?" He watched Lovino chopping the tomatoes, how professional he looked. It was nice sharing his passion with his lover like shrugged, popping a slice of tomato in his mouth. He lifted another to Antonio's lips.

"Mmph. I don't see why not. Why, you want some meat?"

"Did you just make a sexual joke?" Antonio asked, chuckling a little. "I mean it wasn't very good, but for your first one..."

Lovino glared. "Fuck you, I can make innuendos like a _pro_. And that's not what I meant, you damnable pervert. I know your faggy ass likes meat." Man meat. He snorted at the thought.

"Well you can't blame me for thinking that. But as far as the pizza goes, it doesn't matter if it will have meat or anything, I was just wondering." He left the dough for it to rise, and went to pick up Wilhem, because he wasn't getting enough attention.

As Lovino smothered the top of the dough with pesto cheese, Cannoli made a noise. Her bushy tail moved about rapidly behind her when Antonio lifted Wilhelm. A little pink tongue flicked out, wetting her cold nose. Lovino couldn't help but smile. "Damn, you're precious." He leaned over a bit, blowing on her ears, making them twitch crazily. She shook her head, moving a paw across her face. Antonio put Wilhem down beside Cannoli and watched as she started rubbing her head on his back.

"You know, I think he actually likes it. At first I just thought that she was annoying him, but now I'm sure he doesn't move because he doesn't want her to stop." He scratched both behind their ears, and Cannoli started purring. It was strange that the black cat never seemed to purr at all.

"Of course he likes it," Lovino snorted, spreading the chopped vegetables and more cheese onto the pizza. He opened the hot oven and popped it in. "She's the sweetest thing in the history of the universe. Who wouldn't want her affection?"

At that, Antonio just had to turn around and wrap his arms around Lovino's waist and kiss the tip of his nose. "Well I think that _you_ are the sweetest thing in the history of the universe. And the cutest." He pulled back slightly, running his fingers through the Italian's hair that still had that freshly cut feel.

Lovino pushed at his chest in a pathetic attempt to avoid giving in too easily, too uncharacteristically, though giving in to Antonio was all he ever really wanted to do anymore. "Damn straight I am," he mumbled with the slightest trace of sarcasm, keeping his gazed focused on Antonio's very close nose. "Believe it or not, I am often compared to a china doll for my loveliness."

"No, I don't think that's true." Antonio laughed at the look that got him, so he explained. "People who are like china dolls are fragile. You are anything but. You are very strong-willed. Otherwise you would have easily been broken by 'Spain'."

Shaking his head, Lovino's hands slid down Antonio's thick, tanned arms. "Spain is nothing," he assured. "You should have met my grandfather. Fuckin' punk-ass motherfucker. Mafioso, you know. He was all sweet and cheerful and charming and shit outside of the house, so you'd never know how much of a hard-ass he really was to... well, me." He picked at the buttons of Antonio's shirt. "Scary as all hell, he was. You don't have to worry about Spain breaking me, s-so... so let go, I need to clean up the counter."

Antonio smiled down at him and just pulled him in closer. "And if I don't want to let go? I mean, we can clean the counter later, we have a bit of time before the pizza is done..." One of his hands went up under Lovino's shirt, going between his shoulderblades.

Lovino found himself pressed flush against the Spaniard and wondered idly in the back of his mind if the dizzy butterflies in his stomach would ever settle around that man. "What exactly are you suggesting?" he asked with a little fake scowl. Appearances, you know.

"I don't know really. I mean…there's not really enough time to have sex. But we could cuddle on the couch? With the cats?" Cuddling was always nice, because sometimes Lovino would actually let himself relax.

"You are so fucking white bread," Lovino snickered, a grin-like smirk lighting on his face. "But if you _insist,_ I suppose I shouldn't argue. But with the cats? Really? Isn't that a little weird?"

Antonio grabbed his lover by the hand and started towards the living room. "What's weird about it? They like sleeping with a warm body. Well, Cannoli does. I have a feeling that Wilhem wouldn't, but it's still nice." Indeed, just moments after the two had left the kitchen, a soft _thump_ was heard from inside and a pale rocket ball of fluff scampered into the room. Lovino watched, amused as she jumped onto the sofa beside them. "See? I told you. She was curled up with me almost all day." And Wilhem soon followed, just to sit on the floor in front of the couch and look up at them. Antonio patted the cushion, asking him to join them, but all that happened was that Cannoli attacked his hand.

Lovino curled his legs up on the sofa and leaned heavily against Antonio, plucking the little cat from Antonio's hand and resting her in his lap. "Great good fuck," he mused when she immediately popped back up, rubbing herself all over and under his arm. "Did you bathe her in catnip?"

"Of course not! Although maybe if I did, Wilhem would pay more attention to her." He had given them catnip today, but really, not that much. He bent down and picked up the large black cat and brought him on the couch as well, where he finally seemed to lighten up a bit and laid down next to ball of fluff lept at him like a cat possessed, crashing into Wilhelm's side and sending them both toppling over. Lovino lurched forward to grab them before they could fall off the couch.

"Damn," he cursed himself when they were steady again. "That would have been hilarious if they'd fallen off. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Antonio leaned against him, bringing an arm around Lovino to pull him closer. "You're too caring, that's what. See? Another reason you would be a great father. Though, if they were babies, I would _hope_ you would save them, because babies don't land on their feet." Cannoli had started cleaning Wilhem's head, even in his ears. The Italian watched with mild interest and vague disgust, internally mulling over the statement. Would he really be a good father?

"Ugh. Really, Cannoli? How can cats stand that? Don't they learn from all the fucking hairballs?"

"It is a show of affection for them. Cannoli is just showing Wilhelm how much she loves him and wants to have his kittens." Of course he didn't really know that, it was probably just something they did, like dogs sniffing each other's butts. It did sound romantic though.

"Ugh. But what if they turned out to be some weird, fucked up hybrid of their breeds? Like... what if their bodies were all puffy and fuzzy and their heads were weird and sleek and frown-y?"

The Spaniard was scratching the black cat under the chin, which he seemed to enjoy, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I think that no matter what, their kittens would be very cute. Kittens are always cute." Finally, Wilhelm seemed to be going to sleep, after not having done so all day. Cannoli didn't seem to appreciate the total relaxation, though. She mewled and rubbed herself against his back and stomach, eventually wedging herself between his front paws.

"You are such a fucking _slut,_ Cannoli," Lovino chortled, circling her bushy tail with his forefinger.

"She just wants to be loved." Antonio almost let out a very loud 'Aww!' when Wilhelm started lazily licking behind her ears, because it was just so cute that the large cat was finally showing some affection toward the cream-colored female.

Lovino found Antonio's hand, gripping it loosely. "Exactly. Only sluts try to work that hard for a little bit of affection. And hey!" He raised one sock foot, nudging an unperturbed Wilhelm in the side. "What the fuck happened to your aloofness, huh?"

But Antonio ruined it by petting his black fur. "Don't be so hard on him. Maybe he is only getting used to her still. After all, they have only had him for a few days." Finally, Wilhelm stopped licking her, and put his head down on Cannoli's stomach, ready to go to sleep.

Lovino looked utterly appalled. "Ugh. There's no way that's as cute as it seems. You're infecting me with your sappiness, you bastard." Lovino turned to him, a scowl firmly in place.

"Hm, maybe that is a good thing." He snuggled in closer to his lover, but soon the timer on the over was beeping obnoxiously. "I guess the pizza is done."

"Fuckin' pizza," Lovino groused, untangling himself from Antonio's embrace. The cats peeked up tiredly as he stood and made his way to the kitchen, mumbling to himself the entire time. He pulled the pizza out of the oven and set it out to cool, glaring at the mess they had left, as if the counter would clean itself at the stern stare. He went about putting things back in their places, turning on the light as the sun had begun its brilliant orange descent into the horizon.

Going after him, Antonio grabbed the pizza cutter. "I told you, we can do that later. Just get out some plates and we can eat." He cut it up into eight pieces, and put some on the plates as Lovino brought them over. "I mean it, just leave the counter. If you really want then you don't even have to help, I'll do it all."

Lovino flicked some flour at him that he had been sweeping from the counter into his hands. "Whatever, bastard. If I want to clean my counter, I'm gonna damn well clean the counter."

"Fine, but I'm going to eat. If you won't join me, I will just have the cats be my company." He smirked and went to the living room, deciding that since it was just pizza they really didn't have to eat at the table.

Lovino did his best to resist the baiting, he really did, but not even two minutes later he trudged into the living room with his own plate and plopped down beside Antonio, a pout on his face. "Fuck you, you didn't win. I decided to come all on my own."

"Of course you did." Antonio smiled at his plate. He turned on the TV to find something they would both like, and took another bite of his pizza. "It really is good, by the way. One of the best pizzas ever."

"Don't you try to humor me, bitch." Lovino leaned over, taking a bite of the slice in Antonio's hand just to spite him.

He looked over to him and pointed at the lost bite. "Meany. I try to compliment you, and you swear at me." But to show he was saying it jokingly, he leaned over and gave a quick kiss to Lovino's cheek.

"Ugh. Pesto kisses? Really?" Lovino took a bite of his own, scowling. "What the fuck was I thinking? This is way too mushroom-y."

"I like the mushrooms. Though it could have used more tomatoes." Of course, he thought that about almost everything. It was a good thing that they both really liked the red fruit. He blushed a little at the memory of when they had done it out on the balcony.

"Everything could use more tomatoes," Lovino said, mostly following his train of thought. He snatched the remote from Antonio's hand when the channel landed on the food network so that he'd stop compulsively channel hopping. "Now, _he_ can fucking cook," Lovino said appreciatively when he recognized the man on the screen.

Cannoli tried climbing on Antonio's lap, but he pushed her off because that is where had had his plate. "Yes, but we're both good at cooking. Hell's Kitchen is probably my favourite cooking show, though I wish it would show you _how_ to make the food as well."

Lovino glanced sideways at Antonio. "No, dumbass, I mean Gordon's really fucking _amazing_ at cooking. I critiqued him once. He's a culinary mastermind, and damn genius when it comes to verbal sparring. We do lunch when he's in the neighborhood."

"Wow, you know a celebrity! That is so cool!" Now he was even more interested in watching this show. Not to mention that it sometimes gave him some good ideas for meals. Lovino decided not to mention that he would drop his pants for the chef at one word and simply sat, finishing the pizza and avoiding the pleading look Cannoli gave him at every bite. He put his plate on the coffee table and found himself dozing lightly at the feeling of Antonio's hand in his hair, jolting when the Spaniard's thumb rubbed against the root of a particularly sensitive strand.

"Sorry, did I pull your hair?" Antonio dropped his hand down, leaving it on Lovino's shoulder.

"It... it's fine, bastard," he grumbled, trying to focus on the screen and _not_ the warm sensations still tingling through his body at the contact. Cannoli had settled in his lap and that would just be _weird._

Antonio reached over to pet Cannoli, knowing just how close his hand was to Lovino's crotch. "We should do something tonight. Like go to a movie."

Lovino glanced up and shook his head before resting it on Antonio's shoulder. "Too fuckin' tired for that," he answered lowly. "I'd rather just spend it here." _With you_. But that didn't really need to be said.

"Alright, if that's what you want. It's fairly early, but do you want to go to bed after we finish eating?" They were almost done anyway, so going to bed wouldn't be too bad of an idea. Antonio looked down at the cats, wondering if they would like sleeping with them tonight.

"Mnh," Lovino grunted his affirmative, his eyelids heavy. "If I fall asleep before you're done, don't you dare just leave me here."

Antonio smiled at him, because that was just so much like Lovino. "Don't worry, if you fall asleep I'll make sure to carry you up to bed." He liked carrying the small Italian, since he was so light.

"'s right you will," Lovino said, and then began to doze very lightly on Antonio's arm.

* * *

><p>Antonio closed the door to their room, making sure that the two cats were outside. From the last three nights, he had learnt that Lovino had been very serious about not doing anything if their feline guests were in the room. He went over to the bed, crawling toward Lovino, who was reading a book. "Hey, do you want to try something a little different? A little exciting?"<p>

Glancing up from the page without humor, Lovino's brow lifted. "Like cake in bed? You naughty fucker, you."

"No, not cake. That would be messy. I don't know, just something different and fun." He ran his hand up Lovino's leg, going up to the waist band so he could start pulling them down while simultaneously sucking on his neck.

Lovino's body quickly found interest in Antonio's attentions, but by nature he would have none of it. Insistently he slapped Antonio's hand, the book tumbling out of his lap. "Fuck, Antonio, whatever happened to foreplay?"

"We can still do foreplay, I like foreplay. I like how flustered it makes you." He smiled and went up, kissing Lovino full on the mouth, hand going inside his pajama pants. "But I want something different. Like the thing with the tomato, but not that." Because that had been a pain to clean out after.

Lovino squirmed under his hand, his body slowly reacting to Antonio's touches. "W-what kind of different?" he asked, his breath hitching when Antonio combed his fingers through the short, coarse curls down under.

Antonio shrugged, mouthing at Lovino's neck and jaw. "I don't know, what do you think we should do?"

"You're the one who wants it so bad, dammit," Lovino grumbled, one hand deep in Antonio's dark curls as his body arched into the Spaniards. "Are you thinking... b-bondage or some shit?"

Antonio pulled back and shook his head quickly. "Of course not! I wouldn't put you in a position like that... There would be a chance that 'Spain' would get out." Even if it wasn't much of a chance, there was still a chance, and he couldn't risk it.

Lovino pulled his head up to look into his eyes, his frown soft. "Hey," he mumbled, brushing the mussed hair out of his Antonio's face. "If Spain didn't exist... would you want to?"

He thought about it and shrugged. "I might, as long as you would be all right with it. Why, would you like being tied up?" He had to admit, the thought of Lovino being completely at his mercy was enticing.

"Like? I-I don't know, it's not like I've ever done it before, you crazy bastard," he frantically denied. "But Spain isn't the issue, dammit. If you want to, then... then ask me."

"But I wouldn't want to take the chance. If he came out, you wouldn't be able to do anything." He sat back, since they were talking about something a bit serious. It was still about sex, but also about the biggest problem in their relationship.

Lovino huffed and sat himself up, glaring Antonio straight in the eye. "He's never come out during sex. Why the fuck would he start now that he's almost gone?"

"It's not about that. No matter how long he can be gone, there would still be a tiny chance that he could come out." Antonio bit his lip, and looked to the window. "Well, if you really want to be tied up, I might be able to do a knot that you could easily undo if you need to?"

Lovino nodded shortly and moved closer to Antonio, his fingers dawdling at the top button of Antonio's shirt. "I _trust_ you," he reiterated, kissing him.

The Spaniard kissed back for a minute, before getting up and trying to find something they could use. Eventually he left for his own room and got two of his old ties that he never really wore anymore. When he came back, he saw Lovino lying on the bed, completely naked. Antonio swallowed, throat dry, eyes wide and warm.

"You're so beautiful."

At the awed statement, Lovino curled in on himself, abashed. "S-shut up," he mumbled, his fingers itching to pull the blanket over himself. It was still too odd to hear something so silly said with such honesty directed at him, only him. "Just get the fuck over here, dammit."

The bed dipped under Antonio's weight as he crawled closer to his lover. "So I'll try a knot that I think will be easy for you to get undone quickly, but we'll test it out first. And remember, you can always ask me to stop if you don't feel comfortable." He picked one of the ties that would work well for his hands.

"Dammit, Antonio," he huffed, lifting his hands to grasp the bedpost. "I'm a man, you know. I'm not made of glass."

"I know you're not, but we've never done this before so I just want to make sure." He reached up to Lovino's hands, and wrapped the material around it, finishing with a loose knot. "Alright, now see if you can get out of that. You should just be able to pull on this end." He put the end of the tie in his hand as well.

Lovino groused, easily pulling free. "This isn't some wartime drill, dammit!" He draped a bare leg over Antonio's shoulder to keep him still and lifted the upper half of his body to tie a stronger knot one-handed, using his teeth to pull it tight. Antonio was a bit worried, but it looked like the same type of knot, so he could probably still pull free. "Alright, if you're sure." He picked up the other tie then and regarded Lovino quietly for a moment. "... Would you be alright blindfolded? They say it heightens your sensitivity."

"As long as you don't make it so loose that it slips off my face," he said with no small amount of snark. Lovino tilted his head forward, pursing his lips, hoping for a kiss before Antonio did exactly what Lovino wanted. Antonio closed his eyes and kissed him deeply. While they were still kissing, he only paused once to wrap the second tie around his eyes, knotting it in the back, making sure no hair got caught in it. "There you go, how does that feel?"

Lovino pouted at the sudden parting and tightened the grip of his leg about Antonio's shoulder. "Like I'm blind and horny. So you'd better hurry up and touch me."

He laughed and dropped a hand to Lovino's thigh. Also, just to test if he really was more sensitive, Antonio bowed his head and took a nipple into his mouth at the same time he ran a finger along the length of his erection. Not expecting both of the sudden touches at once, Lovino gasped and arched. Before terribly long, he was completely hard and aching, and every sensation was new, thrilling behind his dark little curtain.

Antonio pulled away slightly, happy at the reaction. "Does it feel good? Do you want me to suck you?" He pulled his whole body away, and could tell that Lovino was searching for him, but he was back in a second with the bottle of lube.

Lovino gnawed at his bottom lip to keep the wanting sounds inside. "D... do what you want, dammit," he whimpered, the hardest part of him throbbing.

"Alright." Antonio bent down, moving Lovino's leg farther up on his shoulder so he could reach his erection. He took it between his lips, sucking on the head. With his hands free, Antonio popped the top off the bottle, and knew that Lovino heard it and knew what it was.

Lovino's head tossed back and forth. He wanted to reach for Antonio, but with his hands tied, all he could do was curve his body closer, humiliating noises falling from his lips. He could admit to himself that with anybody else, he would feel nowhere near the trust he felt in Antonio to allow them to tie him up and take him so completely, but Spain never even crossed his mind. It was too full of Antonio. "A-Antonio," he whimpered, and before he could say anything else, before Antonio could even press a finger to him as he sucked and circled, an orgasm ripped through him. It startled the Italian so fiercely that he cried out, his hips lifting to meet Antonio, the whole of his body tight.

At the sudden mouthful of semen, Antonio swallowed as quickly as he could, some still escaping out the corner of his mouth. "Wow... that was, ah, quick." Maybe Lovino liked being tied up more than either of them knew. He gave a little laugh, going up to kiss along his torso, knowing that the Italian didn't like it when he kissed him so soon after having given him a blow job.

Lovino trembled after the intense shock had worn off, his breath harsh and hot. "Fuuuck, Antonio," he groaned appreciatively, shivering. "Oh, fuck, don't... mmm, just... k-keep going."

"Are you sure? Do you want a break to cool off or something?" But at the insistent growl he got, Antonio figured that it would be best to continue. His fingers were still slick, so he once again pressed them to Lovino's hole, but didn't push in yet. He swirled around it, putting just enough pressure so that they wouldn't breach just yet. It would be better to wait until he was completely hard again, or else it wouldn't feel as good.

Lovino licked his lips, spreading his legs and lifting his hips. "S-say something," he commanded, claiming in a rapid, almost indiscernible stutter that he wanted to hear Antonio's sweet Spanish tongue.

"Mmm, _te quiero_, _mi hermoso_ _tomate_, I want to eat you up." He grinned against the skin of Lovino's stomach, the smell of him invading his senses. Antonio could feel him start to harden once more, so he pushed one finger in so that it just breached the tight ring of muscle. Lovino's toes curled and his spent cock began to fill and harden. He moaned and his lips parted, putting as much snark into his words as possible. "Your fucking _mouth_. If you could speak Italian, I'd... hmmm... already be coming again." His breath hitched.

Antonio gave a smirk, and decided to test that. "_Davvero la mia bella?" _Which he was pretty sure meant something along the lines of 'Really, my beauty?' though he couldn't be sure. His mother had tried to teach him some Italian when he was a kid, but that was so long ago.

Lovino choked. "Wha- _bella?"_ He thrust his hips upward violently, hoping to jab Antonio in the eye with his rock-hard cock of fury. "Does this _look_ like a pussy to you, motherfucker?"

"What do you mean? Of course not... oh sorry, what was the masculine form of that again? I didn't mean to call you a girl." In apology, Antonio crooked his finger and made sure to hit Lovino's prostate.

Turning to jelly at the sensation, it took a moment for Lovino's scattered thoughts to amass into one collective idea again. "B-_bello_," he answered breathily.

"_Bello_," Antonio mumbled against his neck, slipping another finger inside him. "Is that better? _Bello__... bello_." He grinned, and repeated the word again, because every time he did it sent a shiver down Lovino's throat.

Lovino felt too much, too strongly. Under Antonio's hands, he _did_ feel beautiful. He felt loved. The strangeness of it all touched him, and he counted himself lucky for the blindfold, because if Antonio could have seen the wet heat of his eyes, he would have stopped. "Don't stop," he said thickly, turning his head and lifting his hips.

"I won't, I promise." Antonio then took his fingers out, because he had gotten pretty good at telling when Lovino was ready. Quickly he slicked up his own cock, pressing it to his lover's entrance. "Are you ready for me?"

The Italian nodded, throbbing and yearning all through his body for the feel of Antonio, filling him, making him whole. He lifted his body as much as he could; if his arms had been free, Antonio would have been in them, wrapped up tight. Now he could only _be _held. "Antonio," he murmured, a plea.

He pushed in, and was soon fully inside him. "Mmn, Lovino, you feel so good," Antonio breathed against his skin, one of his hands going up to wrap around the Italian's wrist, against the tie. He started thrusting, and brought one of Lovino's legs up so he could move faster, with more precision. Lovino moved as well as he could to accommodate the girth and the movement. He craned his neck, searching for Antonio, tightening his hold on the one thing deep inside of him. "Gnn, fuck, Antonio," he gasped when the hard heat pulled accidentally against his prostate.

"Do you -hnm- feel everything even more?" the Spaniard asked, looking at the silk across Lovino's eyes. He looked so cute like this, but cherry red blush disappeared under the blue fabric, and Lovino turned his head this way and that, to try and perceive the things he couldn't see. He did. Every brush of Antonio's hot hands against his skin was new and exciting and frightening and almost too real. Would he ever know how deeply every move he made was imprinted into Lovino, through his flesh and bone, into his veins, coursing through his heart?

"Just don't s-stop, dammit," he panted in reply. Antonio sounded near enough. He leaned up, straining his shaky upper body and blindly kissed his way down Antonio's nose to his lips.

Antonio found it strange that Lovino always told him not to stop, as if this wasn't affecting him just as much, as if he would stop for anything short of the police breaking down the door. But he was forced to push that to the back of his mind as a clever tongue was pushed past his lips, a small moan vibrating through their mouths. He wasn't even sure who the moan came from. A thick, fantastic and wretched gathering of pleasure knotted low in Lovino's belly and he released Antonio's mouth, his head lolling back. "H-hurry, faster!"

Before he even finished his plea, Antonio was snapping his hips forward, pulling Lovino to him by his leg. With his other hand, he started touching his leaking cock with sure strokes.

"Ah- ah- _ah_!" Lovino cried, his hips jerking sporadically as the combined sensations crashed over him for the second time, sending him far beyond pleasure.

The taller brunet was a little surprised when Lovino came for the second time, but he just changed his position somewhat, letting the exhausted Italian flop on the bed as he pounded into him a few more times. "Oh _God_!"

Lovino was too sated and worn to even wince at the feeling of Antonio's essence filling him, leaking from his body when Antonio pulled out a moment later. The Spaniard collapsed on top of him and he was just uncomfortable enough to grunt and whine. "Untie me, dammit..."

Antonio reached up with tired hands and easily worked the knot free, just like it was planned. Then he pulled the makeshift blindfold down, kissing him lazily. Lovino nibbled tiredly at Antonio's bottom lip. "Mmnh... so how fuckin' dangerous was that?" he joked dryly, sunken comfortably into the pillows.

"It could have been, though. But I'm happy that we did this." Antonio curled an arm around Lovino, rolling so they were both on their sides. Both were tired, eyes already slipping shut, and he placed one last kiss to his lover's lips.

"Hey," Lovino murmured against the soft, pink lips as sleep began to drag him away. "... love you, Antonio. Fuckin' love you."

Figuring that he could get away with it since they were both so tired, Antonio gave a small smile and replied, "Love you too, babe."


	11. Chapter 11

Spain looked down at the arm curled around his chest. It just pissed him off more that those two fuckers slept together every night, like some kind of fucking married couple. It pissed him off that Lovino always acted like such a fucking girl around Antonio, and such a bitch around him. It pissed him off... how much he wished Lovino was awake right now.

He slipped out of the bed, storming over to the window. It had been a while since he had last been able to get out. He knew he was disappearing, that his stupid pansy-assed host was getting stronger. But he didn't want to just vanish like nothing had ever happened, everyone forgetting about him. Hell, Lovino would even be happy that he was gone, the bitch. It just wasn't fair… if he couldn't have the Italian, then Antonio shouldn't be able to either!

Inhaling sharply at the sudden loss of warmth in his arms, the sound of stirring limbs alerted Spain to Lovino's waking. His sleepy hand moved around the sheets and the comfortable body heat left over. His eyes opened and he squinted toward the window to see Antonio's gorgeous body outlined in the brilliant morning light. He contented himself with just watching for a moment.

When Spain turned around and caught Lovino's eyes, he sneered. "If you _really _wanted to play dirty, you should have asked me, not that pussy."

Lovino's peaceful calm shattered in an instant. He stiffened. His brain was slow in forming a response, but the same did not hold true for his impulsive tongue. "I want to be made love to, you ass, not raped."

"Well maybe you deserve to be raped, forcing a pansy like Antonio to be with you, you ungrateful little bitch!" He knew that Lovino had problems with his self-esteem, so he figured that would be the best way to get back at him.

Anger and dread coursed through Lovino as it always did when Spain was around, but it was not the normal taunts that struck such a heavy chord inside of him. He reminded himself quickly, though, that Spain was a bitter soul, and he relished in causing others pain. So he wore his familiar scowl and growled right back. "Fuck you, you ego-maniacal jackass. Don't bring him into this. He doesn't deserve your shit."

The personality stepped away from the window, eyes angry. "Fuck you, you don't even know him. You know, it's good you look so much like your brother, or else I would get bored. He's so much cuter than you." Then Spain stomped to the door of the room. If he had to leave, he was going to go out with a fucking bang.

Lovino's blood boiled hot. He grabbed the clock by the bed and threw it with all of his might. It shattered against the wall, tiny cogs, metal bits and glass scattered across the floor. He propelled himself up on his knees, hackles raised. "It's not _your_ fucking opinion that matters, now, is it?"

"Of course it is! Because I'm still fucking part of the pussy that you claim to love!" He snarled at the last word, hating it, because it made him sound like Antonio. Or a fucking girl. He opened the door to the bedroom and left, slamming it behind him. "You're fucking stupid if you don't realize that!"

Lovino leapt from the bed, throwing the door open. He didn't even realize that a shard of broken clock had sliced through his foot, nor did he remember that he was completely bare. "You always fucking run," he spat, "and you call Antonio the pussy? You're full of shit." His heart raced. Lovino didn't want to think about why, whether it was the anger flowing heatedly inside of him, or the fright he felt instinctively at those furious eyes, or something else nagging at him that he wouldn't humor, wouldn't succumb to, wouldn't even consider.

Spain spun around, roughly pinning the smaller man to the wall. "Maybe I walk away because if I don't I'll fucking _kill_ you. Ever think of that? You're so fucking clueless! No wonder Antonio wants to leave. I'll be happy when he does!" He didn't even care if he was lying, he just wanted to hurt Lovino as much as it hurt to be ignored, to be hated.

The furiously pounding heart nearly stopped. Lovino's eyes widened. He wasn't nearly as afraid of those ruthless hands and that hot, spitfire glare as he was of the words expelled from Spain's acidic tongue. All of the color had drained from his face. "Don't... don't lie to me!" he fought, faltering only slightly. He knew that it was his biggest mistake- not even he was convinced by his own words.

"Look, you don't even believe that, you little piece of shit. Both me and Antonio were better off before he ever fucking met you." Spain let him go, but didn't back up very much, in case it would look like he was running away.

Lovino grit his teeth, hating that he needed the wall to support his shaking legs. "I believe him," he ground out, his countenance one of a cat doused with water. "I believe Antonio, everything he told me. I believe that he loves me."

"Oh? So you don't think that he would lie to make you happy? Since he's such a pussy." Spain gave a humourless laugh, looking away. "Even someone who met him on the street could tell that he's too fucking nice for his own good."

Lovino's fingers coiled themselves into fists and he barely restrained himself from lashing out stupidly against the stronger man. "So?" he spat. "Antonio's kind. Of course anyone can see. But he wouldn't just... just tell anyone that he loved them." A thought occurred to him that he would never have said to anyone else, that would have never entered his thoughts before Antonio, but Spain... Spain was not just anyone. "I'm special to him."

Another sarcastic laugh. "Bullshit. Your brother maybe. Why did you think he was always so happy after going to his appointments? Fucking idiot." He spat on the floor by Lovino's feet, snarling.

Lovino's heart sank into his stomach. It gripped him so hard that it became almost difficult to breathe. Little thoughts, coiled like smoke and vicious as serpents whispered to him. Of course it made sense. It had always been this way. Just because Antonio was sweeter than most, why would that mean that he would love him? Lovino felt them curl and throb at the base of his throat as pain shot up his leg through his sliced foot. "It's not true," he said fervently, shaking his head, his fist tight over his heart. "It's not!"

Now it seemed like Spain was getting somewhere. It seemed like Lovino was starting to believe the lies he told. "You sound like a goddamn kid. Just admit it, no one fucking wants you. You're like a piece of shit compared to Feliciano."

The Italian's lips parted. It was Spain, he knew, but it was Antonio's mouth forming the words, and a creation of Antonio's own mind vomiting them all over Lovino's heart. It rocked him so thoroughly that the pain in his chest had become physical. "I know that!" he cried, desperate. "I know, but Antonio said... he told me that that didn't matter!" _He told me I was beautiful. He told me that he loved me._

And then he lurched from the wall and shoved Spain square in the chest.

The personality responded quickly, pushing Lovino against the wall hard, hearing a thump as his head hit it. "Don't fucking push me! You don't know what I could do to you!"

If what he had said was true, whatever Spain could do was nothing compared to what Antonio had done. It was then that he realized that hot, stinging streams poured from the corners of each of his eyes. The laughable thing about it was that the tears had nothing to do with the lump already forming on his skull, nor the blood pouring from his heel, nor the fright at being so close to a flight of stairs with a maniac grabbing him in total control. Lovino's eyes caught Spain's, desperate. His lips parted, saliva congealing thickly in his mouth, making his words thick and weak. "Is it true?"

"Of course it's true. Last night, he was wishing that it was Feliciano sleeping with him." He gave him one last shove against the wall, and grinned in victory at the sight of the tears leaking from Lovino's eyes.

And it all made sense. The comfortable way Feliciano and Antonio acted around each other, the sweet words Antonio had said to his brother from day one, Feliciano's raving over Antonio's kindness before they had ever even met... everything.

Of course it wasn't him. It was never him.

Feeling more naked than the bareness of his body, Lovino could no longer hold himself up and sank slowly to the floor, his entire body shaken. "Go," he said with his face hidden in his knees. "Don't ever _fucking_ come back."

"Good, I don't want to see you ever again." Spain stormed to the door, not even caring that he was only wearing the pajama pants he had put on when he woke up. If Lovino didn't want to see him, he wouldn't want to see Antonio either, so neither of them would be with the one they both loved.

Lovino waited until after the front door slammed and the apartment shook before he let out a wail into his tear-soaked arms. Lovino had no one to call for support. Parents? Dead. Friends? No one close enough to share this magnitude of pain. Feliciano? A piercing laugh cut through his sobs. He was just as alone as he had always thought. Nothing had changed.

He would never, ever, ever love again.

/

* * *

><p>When Antonio came to himself, he wasn't sure where he was. He didn't even know how he wandered home. All he knew was that he was in front of their building at around noon. He unlocked the front door, and went to their apartment. But when he tried unlocking their door, it wouldn't open.<p>

The Spaniard looked down and saw a small pile of paper, so he picked it up and recognized it as the contract for him living there... saying that it had been voided.

His gut fell to his feet, and Antonio knew, just knew, that whatever had happened this morning had been bad enough for Lovino to kick him out. He knocked on the door, called to him for nearly an hour, but there was nothing on the other side, and he ended up being escorted from the building.

Lovino hadn't answered. He had tried, too, not to hear the pounding, the yelling, the pleading. It was too much, too hard to ignore. His body had almost acted of its own accord and stood, almost flew to the front door to throw it open. But he was nothing if not stubborn and after an hour or so, he heard the cries fade into silence.

He felt bare in the solitude of his own bathroom. Naked, though he had dressed himself. Dirty, though he had bathed. Hopelessly alone.

Lovino jumped at the shrill ringing of the phone and suddenly the bathroom was too small. Too dangerous. He had been touched here so many times, every single moment a lie, and again the wound was fresh, the pain new. The bedroom was no different, so he grabbed the phone off of the bedside table (where Antonio's socks had once resided. Lovino had yelled at him for that. Perhaps Antonio could have loved him if he had kept quiet about the little things) and quickly left the room. And there in the hall, glaring at him for every wrong thing he had ever done was the painting he had slathered so long ago. The one Antonio finally was able to nail to the wall without injury. It suffocated him to see it. To be watched by it, Antonio's first expression of... not love. Whatever it was that was forged between them. Lovino tore it down with a strangled cry, and the phone stopped ringing. The cats had long since fled around the corner and disappeared.

The canvas lay on the floor, torn through the middle and upside down. Lovino stared at it, his breathing heavy and thick. And then the phone began to ring again.

"What the fuck do you want?" he hissed into the receiver.

Feliciano, completely oblivious to the edged tone of his brother, practically bounced on the other line. _"Fratello! Why didn't you pick up? Were you in the bathroom? Oh! No you were probably with Antonio~ Sorry I interrupted! I just wanted to see how Cannoli and Wilhelm are doing!"_

Lovino's mouth opened and closed and all he could do was stare at the painting. "... I forgot to feed them breakfast," he answered with numb honesty.

_"Aw, that's too bad, Cannoli always loves her wet cat food. But you don't have to worry with her, as long as she's fed she is fine. But Austria is so fun! You should hear Ludwig's cousin play the piano, he is so good! I wish you and Antonio could have come with us."_

"Ask him on your own damn time," Lovino snapped harshly. He kicked the painting as hard as he could, cursing violently when pain shot up through his toes. Tears of anger and pain welled up in his eyes and he fell against the wall, slowly sliding down. His words were thick and bitter. "You're the one he wants to hear from, after all."

The younger of the twins frowned, for the first time realizing that something may be wrong._ "Are you alright, Lovi? You sounded like you hurt yourself. And what does that mean? You're living together! Doesn't that mean that he wants to hear from you the most?"_

"Not any more, Feliciano." He stripped off his sock and rubbed the heel of his hand to his wet eye, examining the red, throbbing toes. He bit his lower lip to keep from making any pathetic noises. Lovino jolted in surprise at a flash of movement from around the corner. Cannoli trotted toward him, pausing by his knee. He sniffed, tucking the phone into the crook of his shoulder and picking her up, cradling the cat to his chest.

_"What? Why not? Did you two break up? Oh Lovi I'm so sorry! Tell me everything that happened!"_

"Just... more of the same," Lovino answered, burying his face into Cannoli's fluffy neck. "He met you first. Not that _that_ fucking matters... He met you, period. And that's the end of the story. But don't worry." He swallowed. "He's still got Spain. You'll see him again."

He could practically hear those doe eyes go wide through the phone line._ "What are you saying? What does it have to do with me? And if he broke your heart, I don't want to see him again," _he decided with a nod._ "If Antonio was mean to you then I think Ludwig should drop him as a patient."_

"He's not being mean, Feli." Lovino felt tired, sick and empty. "He's the same as everyone else. That doesn't make him need the potato bastard any less." He hiccupped and stroked Cannoli's fur, warm and wet from his own tears.

His brother wasn't convinced... something just seemed wrong. "It's okay, you'll find someone even better that doesn't have two personalities. And even if he does, both of them will love you, and you'll be happy. Wait and see."

But Lovino shook his head, not even bothering to push Wilhelm away with the dark cat rubbed against his hip. "I don't think so, Feli." Slowly then, even as Feliciano tried to argue, Lovino lowered the phone and shut it off, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. He stroked Cannoli's whiskers and forged a smile. "We can't all find happiness, now can we?"

* * *

><p>Antonio did not like spending the night in a hotel. Especially since he didn't really have much to wear. It was lucky that he had his wallet with him, because he had to buy some clothes. And now he was going to work, hair not combed, unshaven, in rumpled clothes, and hadn't even been able to brush his teeth.<p>

When he got to the front desk, his secretary, Katyusha, told him that there was a bag for him. When he opened it, he found that all his clothes and things were inside. Well, it would seem that Lovino really did want him out of his life.

"Thank you. I'll put this in my car when I have a chance. Who is the first patient?"

"Um, let me see..." The Ukrainian glanced up from the schedule with an odd expression on her face. "Is... is everything alright, Doctor?" she asked in a tone of concern.

He sighed and gave a tired smile. "Well, I got kicked out of my house. Guess I should probably start looking for a new place... have to eventually right?" There was no point holding out hope that Lovino would take him back, especially after the duffel bag of stuff. That was a pretty clear message.

She frowned. "But... weren't you dating your roommate?" Katyusha leaned forward. "Sir?"

"Yes, that's the problem. We... ah... had a disagreement. You can understand." He put the bag behind his own desk so that it would be out of the way. "I spent last night in a hotel, if you can believe it."

"Oh no!" she tutted, her eyes wide. "Whatever about? You never mentioned anything happening recently..." And Antonio boasted all sorts of things about his relationship. Frequently. To everyone.

He shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it; it was still painful. "I'm not exactly sure. It happened during one of my... episodes, so I don't remember what happened." Another time that Spain was ruining his life.

Katyusha sat back in her chair solemnly. "...I see." Her half-brother, who lived one city over had the same disorder. She could understand very well the consequences of such an affliction. "... Are you going to try to rectify the situation?"

"I don't see what I can do. I don't want to press him to do something he wouldn't want, and besides he probably just couldn't take it anymore. It's a lot to deal with, you know?" Antonio grabbed a clipboard to look at his patient list, he could see that Josh was first.

Katyusha decided then to seal her lips. The doctor had always been a cheerful blabbermouth, going on and on about the good things he was blessed with, but if he decided not to talk, well, she had never met anyone with the power to coax such things from him. She could see the terribly masked hurt in her employer's eyes and felt empathetic tears begin to well in her own, as she was prone to doing. "Your first appointment is in fifteen minutes," she pointed out, turning to dab at her eyes with a tissue.

"Thank you." Antonio looked up and saw her, and moved closer. "Oh, don't cry for me. You're too pretty to cry, Kat. I'll be fine, I promise." Although he wasn't even sure of that himself, but he still hated seeing other people cry.

She waved a hand at him and sniffed. "I-I'm not crying! It's allergy season, sir!" Before he could say anything against it, Katyusha hastily jumped up at the opening of the doors. "Good morning, Josh! Would you like a lolipop?"

The little boy grinned and took the colourful candy. "Thank you." He mumbled before hiding behind his parent's leg.

Eight hours later, Antonio was packing up. Luckily, nothing had happened today, but he had a feeling it would only be a matter of time before Spain resurfaced. After all, living with Lovino had made the change so that he had fewer episodes, now that he wasn't living with him it made sense that that luck would run dry. As Katyusha was shutting off her computer she noticed Antonio walking by in a daze. "D-doctor, wait!" When he glanced back, she stood. "Um... there's no need for you to stay at a hotel. You can come to my place!"

He gave a smile at her generosity. "Thank you Katyusha, but I wouldn't want to intrude. But it was nice to offer."

She faltered for a minute but, not one to be deterred, the Ukrainian grabbed her purse and bustled around the desk. "No, please, you wouldn't be intruding at all. I'd be glad for the company, and you don't need the hotel fees if you're going to be looking for a new place to stay. Please?"

Antonio stopped and nodded. "Alright, you know I can never say no to you. Thank you, you're too kind." At least it would be better than a hotel. He always hated the impersonal feel of those places, and couldn't sleep well in them.

Cheering up instantly, she smiled. "Wonderful! If you'd like, I can follow you while you get your things, and..."

With that, Antonio found himself rooming with an emotional Ukrainian. The days dragged on and on unpleasantly, despite Katyusha's warm welcome and comfortable home, and by the eighth day, Antonio had very nearly deteriorated. He remained in a perpetual state of confusion and grief when he could remember anything at all, but his memory was blotchy at best. He would call Lovino at least once a day, if not to rectify the situation, then just to hear his voice. But Lovino never answered, and Antonio continued to forget. Frightened for the safety and well-being of the children he adored, he made the decision by the ninth day to put in his two-weeks' notice. It was then that Katyusha made a frantic call to the one doctor that had been able to make any kind of sense in her employer's life.

Shortly thereafter, 'Antonio' disappeared.

* * *

><p>Spain grinned as the front door opened and the big-breasted woman came in. "You know, I'm gay, but I would still fuck you. Your tits are enough to even turn <em>me<em> on." His laughter was halted abruptly when someone came in after her. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Ludwig stepped through the door, a stern look on his face. Well. More stern than usual. "You," he began tersely, as though he were speaking to a naughty child, "ruined what was a particularly enjoyable vacation, I am sure of it. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He stood up, glaring at the blond man. "Why don't you fuck off and leave me alone! There is no longer a problem. After all, there's only one personality in here, motherfucker." Spain pointed to his head, and started to walk away.

"Where will you go?" Ludwig asked him, his gaze sharp. He did not appear as startled by the words as he really was. Only one? "You can't get by on unpleasantness, Spain."

"I can go wherever the fuck I want! It's not like _you'll_ stop me!" Now he was walking up to the man he hated so much, the man who had tried and make him disappear. "I could take you! You're just a pussy psychiatrist! What the fuck can you do?"

"Don't tempt me," Ludwig growled. He had hurt Lovino, which of course had upset Feliciano, and that just would not do. Ludwig had not been specially selected as a German drill sergeant in his youth for nothing, after all. "I did not come to fight with you."

Katyusha breathed a sigh of relief.

"I came to offer you a proposition."

Spain glanced to the side to see if the door was still open, just in case. "Fine, what is it? I'm not saying I agree or anything, 'cause it'll probably be fucking stupid."

"I would like you to come back to my office. I only want to talk." He held up a hand before Spain could immediately refuse. "If Antonio is gone, then there should be no problem. How could I try to call someone back who is not there?"

He thought about it, and the shrugged. "Fine, whatever. If you promise to leave me the fuck alone after." Then he could live his own fucking life, the way he wanted to live it, without this asshole coming in and annoying him.

Ludwig nodded and glanced at Katyusha, who gave him pointed looks of both gratitude and anguish. He knew her thoughts. _Thank goodness he is leaving, but... where has Antonio gone?_

The drive across town was completely silent, and the ride in the elevator was no different. The first thing to greet Spain when the heavy metal doors opened was a quick slap to the face. Feliciano immediately jumped behind Ludwig after, but glared around his thick arm.

"What the fuck! Come here you little bitch!" Spain yelled, trying to get around the doctor to get at the quivering Italian and throttle him. "Don't be a fucking coward, come here and I'll teach you how to fucking slap someone!"

Ludwig pushed firmly against Spain's chest, his eyes hard. "If you're going to be out in the world all of the time, you must learn to control yourself. Antonio isn't around any more to act as your scapegoat."

Feliciano muttered something in Italian, his expression one of anger. "You hurt my brother," he accused.

"I didn't hurt him! Trust me, if I had hurt him, he would be in the fucking hospital, so shut the fuck up." Spain finally backed off with a snarl, unable to bypass the big German. "Anyway, I'm here, can we get this over with?"

Feliciano watched from a safe distance, placed behind Ludwig's desk in his office. The German leaned against the front of the wooden surface, his arms folded over his chest. "You might as well make yourself comfortable."

He stayed exactly where he was. "Why bother? I'm not gonna be here for long, because I'm leaving as soon as I get bored. Seems it will be soon, 'cause you fuckers couldn't even entertain me if you were naked."

Ludwig sighed. It was like talking to a brick wall. Or a teenager. "Talk to me, Spain. You're my client now. Tell me, where has Antonio gone?"

"See! That's what I thought, even when he's fucking gone everything is still about him! Fuck this, I'm out of here!" He quickly went to the door, and tugged violently on his arm when it was grabbed by the German. When he didn't let go, Spain turned around and went for a punch.

But Ludwig was quick. The needle was in Spain's neck before the fist could hit his face. All the personality had time to do before the fast-moving drug kicked in was to curse and throw a wild punch, connecting with Ludwig's shoulder before he stumbled. Dr. Weilschmidt caught him when he went down and placed the soon snoring Spaniard in a chair, securing his wrists and ankles to the seat with the sturdy extra ties he kept stowed away, just in case.

"... What do we do, Ludwig?" Feliciano asked quietly from behind the desk, his dark eyes wide and fretful. Ludwig swept a hand through his hair to smooth it back in place.

"Call your brother."


	12. Chapter 12

Spain felt like his head was full of cotton. His ears too, judging by the fuzzy voices that seemed very far away.

_"...told you... don't want to be here."_

He was slowly coming back to consciousness, blinking his eyes open, only to close them at the bright light. "Fuckmmgonna kill th'bastard..." he mumbled as best he could with his tongue not listening to him.

Beyond his realm of vision, Ludwig sealed his lips and nodded to an upset Lovino, pulling Feliciano out of the room and closing the door. Lovino was not afraid of what Spain would do without Ludwig in the room- there were cameras, after all, that the German could watch from outside of the room, so he would know if Lovino was in any bodily danger should he somehow escape the binds. He was afraid to look directly at the waking Spaniard. It was physically painful to see his beautiful face. He perched on the desk and looked at the vast, dark bookshelf on the wall to his left, and said nothing.

When the fuzzy image began to come into focus, Spain wondered why Feliciano was there but not Ludwig. At least he figured it must be him, because he had been there when he had been stabbed by the needle. "Let me outta here bitch; I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"You're not going to kill anyone, you pretentious fuck." Lovino glared at a thick English dictionary. His voice was hard and flat, forced.

Well, that obviously wasn't Feliciano. Spain grit his teeth and pulled at the restraints. "What the hell are you doing here? It's probably your fault I'm here in the first place you bitch, so let me go and then _fuck off_." He didn't want to look at Lovino, to be reminded of how much more he wanted Antonio.

"I don't know what _that's_ supposed to mean, but fuck if I'm here because I want to be." Lovino chanced a glance at the body of his former... whatever-they'd-been. It looked like Spain hadn't gotten himself into too much trouble. No bruises or big scrapes. He shouldn't have been as relieved as he was.

"It doesn't fucking matter—just let me go! I know you like bondage and so do I, but not on me!" he yelled, nearly fully recovered from the sedatives, and therefore fully angry. No one had the fucking right to stab him with a needle and tie him to a fucking chair!

"Don't you yell at me," Lovino snapped, finally looking at him, anger simmering beneath his eyes. "You'd throw a fucking plate at someone's head without a second thought, so why the _fuck_ would I let you out?"

Spain's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists. "That was a fucking accident! It's not my fault you were in the way! I was aiming for that fucking pirate, but he moved!" But at least he would never again have to see Captain Kirkland, because he was never even going near that stupid fucking building ever again. Once he got out of this goddamn chair!

"Accident my ass," Lovino hissed. His knuckles turned white as his fists gripped the side of the desk. "You yelled at me, you twisted son of a bitch, because you were mad. Because I told you to take care of Antonio's body. Don't think that just because I was hit by a _plate_ that I don't remember."

At that, Spain's face twisted into a grin. "Don't have to worry about that now, do we? 'Cause it's not Antonio's body now; it's mine. What do you think about that?" Now it didn't matter if people preferred that pussy, didn't matter if they wanted him to disappear, because he was here to stay.

Even though Lovino didn't want to hear it, he did not argue. He closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. It didn't work very well. The only thing he could do was recite the questions Ludwig had prompted. "So? What do you plan to do with your life? Where are you gonna go?"

"It doesn't matter. It's my life so I can do whatever the fuck I want. It definitely won't be the fucking boring job that pansy-ass did." Spain was still trying to get out of the bonds on his arms and legs, but nothing seemed to be working. "Why are you here? You just want your lover boy back, don't you. You two made me sick. Always acting like a fucking married couple all the time."

"That shouldn't matter though, should it?" Lovino asked, his expression unreadable. He didn't know how to feel. "If you know better than anyone how much of a lie it was, then leave it in the fucking past. Antonio's gone. What are _you_ gonna do with _your_ body?"

Spain suddenly started thrashing around in the bonds, almost tipping the chair backwards. "Get me the fuck out! I don't wanna be here, I hate it here! And I don't fucking need you asking me things you don't fucking care about because you fucking hate me! Let me _go_!" He finally managed to get the chair to tip on its side, and he crashed down on the floor. One of the chair legs broke off, so he now had one of his legs free, never mind the fact that he'd landed with all of his weight on his hand.

Lovino didn't know what to do, but his body seemed to react on its own. As frightened as he was of Spain's strength, he couldn't help but move, and in an instant he fell to the floor, gripping Spain's knees. "Stop," he said with a firm frown. His voice came out with a forced calm and his tone was almost gentle and he found himself looking directly into Spain's wild, acidic green eyes. "Stop. You don't need to fucking hurt yourself. Chill out for a minute, okay?"

It actually seemed to work. Spain stopped jerking around long enough for Lovino to get the chair straight again, but his eyes were still wide and his breathing was still heavy. Like a caged animal. "Why do you fucking care? You hate me, you've always hated me. And why, just because I'm not Mr. Fucking Perfect?" he hissed, much quieter than a minute ago.

"Because of Mr. Fucking Perfect, I _don't_ hate you." He crouched down, trying to prop the broken leg of the chair back up behind Spain's to steady it. It seemed that his calm had confused Spain into his own, and he wasn't one to question a good thing. "Did you smash your fingers?"

Spain ignored the question, because yes, he _had_ smashed his fingers, but not more than he would have in a fight. "You do hate me. You want me gone so that you and that pussy could move to Italy and live on the beach and adopt a kid and have thirty fucking cats."

"Twenty," he corrected automatically with a bitter smile. "But I'm past it. You learn how to move on quick when this shit happens all the time, you know? Fuck, look at your hand..." He frowned deeply, looking at the red, dark fingers of his left hand on the wooden armrest. With only a moment's hesitation, he worked to unravel the expertly knotted tie strapped to his wrist.

As soon as one hand was free, Spain pulled it away and tried to get the other one undone as fast as he could. Which was quite difficult since he only had one hand and that one hand was pretty screwed up, but he soon had it undone as well. "I'm getting the fuck out of here."

When he stood, Lovino looked up, grabbing his thigh and praying steadily in his mind not to be kicked. "Wait!" But when Spain looked at him, he was suddenly at a loss for words. Why had he said it? Even he didn't know. "Y...your other foot is still tied to the chair. You don't want to look like an idiot trying to hobble out of here with a chair strapped to your damn foot."

"I could break the chair." Spain said, but still reached down to undo it. He had thought that Lovino would be trying to get him to stay, to get 'help', as if this place could fucking help him at all, but either way he stood up when he got his leg out.

Lovino stood, too, and zipped his lips when he noticed Spain's almost expectant eyes. It didn't last long, though, and in a fraction of a moment, he was turning to leave. Lovino didn't know why, but he suddenly found that his hand was wrapped around Spain's arm. "Don't... dammit." He glared down at his own hand.

Spain turned around, ripping his arm away. "What the fuck do you want? If you want me to stay, then you better give me a fucking good reason. Like a kiss, and I mean a fucking good one. Otherwise I'm out of here. And I swear to god if I see that mother fucking doctor I'm gonna strangle him."

Lovino almost regretted untying him. His eyes went wide, his mouth agape. "I... I... fuck!" He dropped Spain's arm, running a hand through his own hair. "I don't know why I did that... I don't even know why I fucking want you to stay, but I do, so... just let me figure it out for a minute! You don't have anywhere to fucking be; you can wait."

Spain stepped back, arms crossed. "Well fucking hurry up. I don't have to be anywhere, but I don't wanna be _here_."

Lovino glared, rubbing the back of his neck. It was perhaps the most docile he'd ever seen Spain. Well. Unrestrained, anyway. He averted his eyes. "Don't be a dick. I'm not going to fucking kiss you. I'm not _that_ desperate for the illusion of affection."

"It's not about what you want, it's about what _I_ want. If I don't get anything out of this, then I'm leaving. I don't fucking need this." Spain turned around and took a step towards the door.

Lovino reached out to grab him, but quickly retracted his hand. "You're going to die violently and alone on the street if you don't know how to control yourself in public."

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. "Wow, you actually sounded like you fucking care. But here's the thing: I would rather live a year doing whatever the hell I want than live a whole lifetime having to control myself. Are you gonna kiss me, or can I go out there and punch that Nazi doctor in the face?"

Scowling, Lovino backed up when Spain began to step closer. "I'm not gonna do something like that with someone who prefers my brother," he growled, jumping when the back of his thighs hit the desk. "Shit."

"Oh, you still believe that? Wow, didn't know you were that stupid." Spain smirked and leaned in closer. "I just needed you mad at him for long enough for me to take over. And here we are." The smirk fell off his face, dipping back into a scowl.

Lovino's eyes widened. "... _What?"_ He tried to edge slowly to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Don't bullshit me, motherfucker. I'm tired of your inconstant shit. I'm not gonna fall for it again." His hands groped around on the desk behind him, knocking over a mug and a plaque before his fingers wrapped around a pen. He held it up like a weapon, his grip shaky. "Now... now calm the fuck down. Get the ants out of your fucking pants and listen to reason, would you?"

Spain laughed at the pathetic attempt at a weapon. "What do you plan to do with that? You see, this is why I like you and not your brother. He would be crying at the door for his lover boy by now." He swatted the pen out of Lovino's hand and it clattered against the wall.

Lovino watched it go with a look of longing. "... Fucking dammit." Dark eyes found Spain's and he grimaced. "What the fuck ever. Look, I know that you loathe me, and I can even understand why, but I'm... entertaining the idea of trying to help you. So if you don't want to... to... back up, fucker, I'm still talking. If you want to survive out in the world, you need to know how to behave."

But Spain didn't back up. He grabbed Lovino by the arm and brought him forward. "You still don't fucking get it, do you? Me and Antonio have the same likes. So no, I don't loathe you. I loathe the fact that you hate me, I loathe the fact that you love him, but the only thing I would actually want in life would be you. Everything else can fuck off and die for all I care." Then he let Lovino go, though never losing the proximity he had with him.

The Italian's's eyes were as wide as saucers. The conviction in Spain's voice was unmistakable. He couldn't believe that he'd actually... let go. Even though he was a little too close, it was still progress. And Antonio. Antonio was... Antonio was a problem to marinate. He could think about Antonio later. "You... but I'm... I'm fucking difficult, and you're always s-saying that I'm a... w-wait. If you wanted me, you'd have stayed. Why didn't you stay? You always left as soon as you possibly fucking could when you were out before."

He looked over to the door, because he just wanted to make sure that he could still get out if need be. "I didn't want to fucking rape you or something, and last time I just wanted to get you and Antonio away from each other."

"That was a fucking dick move, don't you think? Telling me my brother is preferable to me when I already knew it?" He saw Spain looking and grabbed his sleeve.

He looked down at the hand grabbing his sleeve. "Like I care. All I knew was that it was killing me seeing you two all the time. Literally killing me; I was disappearing."

_But you made Antonio disappear._ Lovino held his tongue and tried not ignore the agony he felt at the thought. He could bet he knew how it felt to die in that moment. "I'll cry you a river. But all that's dumb shit and I don't wanna talk about it anymore. So are you gonna take my offer or not?"

"Fine, whatever. What exactly is it? Just come live with you and try to act like a good citizen?" It sounded fucking retarded. But if it meant he had a place to live and free food, then it would be alright. And besides, what stopped him from going out and doing whatever he wanted?

Lovino's brow furrowed. "Oh, like your plan to just rough it is _so_ much better." He let go of Anton- _Spain's _sleeve. "So first thing's first. Don't be a dumb shit and try to rape me or anything. Not fucking cool. Next, you can't just be a bitch to everyone. Learn some fucking manners and use them even if you don't mean it."

Spain laughed at that. "That's fucking rich, coming from you! The only people that you're nice to are the people that are fucking you!" He kicked a pen that was on the floor, not taking his eyes off of Lovino. "And I won't rape you, but if you really want me to do shit then I'm gonna need some type of reward. Think of me like a disobedient dog. If you give me a treat, I might do what you want."

At that, Lovino smirked. "Coming from me, it should make you wonder just how bad _you_ are. Fine. I'll reward you. But on my terms. No funny business, fucker. We'll start small. For instance..." He put a hand on Spain's chest and lightly pushed him back. "If the dog gives me some space to fuckin' breathe and walks outta here with me without causing a big scene, he gets to pick whatever he wants for dinner. _Capisce?"_

He was about to reject it, but then Spain paused. "_Whatever_ I want? Alright I agree." And before Lovino could back out of it, he grabbed the Italian's hand and shook it.

Lovino's breath caught in his throat when Spain grabbed his hand. The feeling that ran through him at the simple gesture made him feel an empty sort of homesick longing. He disguised it well. "No funny business," he reiterated, dropping the darker hand quickly. Lovino opened the door from Ludwig's office into the reception area, where Feliciano had his ear pressed to the other door and Ludwig looked up from behind Feliciano's desk, where a video screen was probably hidden. "We're going home."

The German gave a small nod, once again wishing that the camera had sound as well. But Spain seemed much calmer, even if he still gave him a death glare.

"Watch your back. You never know when someone might stab you with a needle," Spain said with a smirk, before following Lovino out of the office.

Once in the elevator, Lovino could not help but crack again. "While I don't mind taking the piss out of that potato-fucker, you still need to work on that whole... threatening everybody thing."

"You're lucky I didn't fucking punch his face in. I'm not gonna become a pussy, no matter what you do." Spain snapped back and leaned against the mirrors until the doors opened again.

* * *

><p>The Italian grabbed a tomato and a knife without thinking and paused just as the blade barely pierced the waxy, red flesh. It was familiar. His mouth was open and the words came out before he could stop them, even though as they came, he felt almost like he was being punched in the gut. "What did you want for dinner, bastard?"<p>

Spain walked up to him and grabbed Lovino's hand that was using the knife, just in case. "I want you for dinner."

Lovino's eyes widened and he gripped the kitchen counter. "Dammit all to fucking _hell,_ that had better not be your confession to cannibalism or I swear to the Holy Mother I will flip shit like you've never even _seen."_

The taller of the two blinked before he sneered. "Of course not, you fucking idiot! You said _anything I want_, and I want you. Come on; you let Antonio touch you and fuck you, so why not me? It's the same body!" He slammed his hands on the counter on each side of Lovino's waist, making it so he couldn't get away.

While relieved that he was not just now discovering that Spain was a people-eater, he was immediately sent back to a fit of anxiety. He did his best to conceal it, though, because it seemed that whenever he was calm, Spain was... well. Less of a psychopath. "I told you," he said evenly, eying the knife that Spain had taken from him. "No funny business. And besides..." He let his eyes travel up and up until he met dark green. "You're the one who's always going on about how you and Antonio are two different people. So I'll treat you like it."

Spain's face immediately screwed up in anger, and he pushed Lovino against the counter, throwing the knife away. "He's gone! Forget about him already! Fuck, why not me?" He kicked a cupboard door closed and turned around, fisting his hair. "Just fucking take me instead! I'll make you feel good, too!"

Lovino, always at a loss for what to do when Spain was concerned, tried to ignore the sharp pain in his spine and moved forward, grabbing Spain's wrists in a fit of what was too stupid to be called bravery. "Hey," he called, trying not to shake. "Hey. Chill for a fucking minute, okay? You won't be a pussy if you just... take a breath and think before you act." He winced as a motion sent pain shooting through what was certain to become a wide, dark bruise. "Really. Come on."

"Shut up! You don't know anything! You don't fucking care about me, all you care about is him! Right now you're hoping he'll come back! That's why you're taking me in! Well fuck you! _Fuck you_!" Spain pushed him off, and went to storm out of the kitchen.

Lovino stumbled back, catching himself on the counter. He could only stand for a minute quietly until he turned very slowly to look at the barely pierced tomato. He found that he wasn't hungry anymore.

The Italian crept to his room, gently closing the door behind him and running a hot bath. Once undressed he lowered himself in delicately, sighing when the near-scalding water was past his chin, warming the bruise. For the first time all day he allowed himself to sink down and let everything, water and words and feelings, wash over him. Lovino submerged to his nose and let himself cry.

* * *

><p>A good seven hours later, Spain stumbled back into the apartment. He wasn't really used to the aftereffects of being pissed drunk, since he usually left that for Antonio, but he could still do this. Once he was inside the house, he started taking his shirt off, and just let it fall to the ground.<p>

Climbing the few stairs there were was a bitch. When he finally got up, Spain found his legs taking himself into Lovino's room of their own accord, and crawled into the bed before he quickly passed out.

"Mmgh..." Lovino squinted into the darkness, wrinkling his nose. Antonio was drunk. Why was Antonio drunk? He groaned low in his throat and eased himself over, clumsily taking one of the stupid Spaniard's arms and draping it over himself, curling into that strong body. "Smell like shit," he mumbled before falling back, dead asleep and blissfully unaware.

Hours later he was not so pleased. The first feeling to his waking was confusion. He had changed his sheets and pillows just the other day, so why did they still smell like Antonio? And why was he being held? The second feeling was one of intense, electrical hope that the entire last week had been an awful nightmare and he was waking up in Antonio's arms, gentle and loving and strong. Then finally, dread. He knew that there was no way he would be lucky enough for it all to have been an awful dream. It was reality. And if it hugged like Antonio and smelled like Antonio, it was someone in Antonio's body. His eyes shot open.

Spain was jerked awake by something moving beside him, and was met with a god awful headache. He put a hand to his forehead, groaning. "Fuuuck this sucks." Then he realized what had woken up and looked over to find Lovino pressed against the wall at the other side of the bed. Damn, he thought he had decided last night to never come back here.

Lovino feigned sleep as best he could, thinking that maybe Spain would get bored of watching his still, unresponsive body and leave on his own. It was a good plan, he thought. But Spain stayed in the bed, and moved closer to him. The personality reached over and lightly moved the hair from Lovino's face, gave a sigh and turned around to go back to sleep. Lovino waited until he heard deep, rumbling snores from less than a foot away and slowly dared to open his eyes. A hand slowly rose from beneath the covers and touched his forehead. He was stunned. It had been the first time Spain had ever been... Had ever touched him so gently. It confused him. He didn't know how to process the situation. "Why, dammit?" he mumbled under his breath, resisting the urge to move closer.

It had almost been... sweet.

The Italian shook his head to banish the thought and slowly sat up, creeping over. The only way out of bed was to climb over Spain. He didn't want to think what might happen if the sadistic bastard woke up to find Lovino crawling over him, but waiting around for Spain to really wake up was... well, the first time it happened ended rather badly, and he wasn't keen on the idea of it happening again. So, biting his lip, he very slowly lowered one of his arms onto the mattress on the other side of Spain, pausing a moment before swinging a leg over, too.

The sleeping man, thankfully, stayed sleeping. However, almost as soon as Lovino was spreadeagled over him, Spain mumbled something impossibly to make out, and rolled over onto his back, legs brushing the Italian's sensitive inner thigh.

Lovino's breath hitched and he looked down, his entire body freezing. When it didn't seem like Spain was going to wake up he leaned over a bit to give himself momentum and gently rocked until he rolled away from Spain... and right off the bed, landing on his bruised spine. "Fuck fuck shit fuck," he cursed behind grit teeth, standing slowly and walking gingerly out of the room.

About half an hour later, Spain woke up again and was forced out of bed by the need to take a piss. He looked through the cupboards to try and find some Advil or something, but there was none. Must be kept in the other bathroom. So he ventured outside the room to look for some.

Lovino glanced up when Spain trudged into the kitchen with a deep scowl on his face, one hand clutching his head. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty. You totally don't look like fuckin' shit this morning."

"Stop fucking yelling," Spain complained, the noise practically splitting his head in two. He made his way to the kitchen and started opening doors at random. "Where do you keep the pain killers?"

Setting the coffee mug down and hopping off the tall bar stool, Lovino moved past Spain and opened a drawer beside the oven. "Here," he said, unscrewing the childproof cap and handing him two. "You might want some coffee."

He grunted in the commiserative before swallowing the pills dry. "I always used to find it funny when Antonio had to deal with my hangovers. Fuck." He leaned his forehead against a cold surface, and covered his stomach with his arms, hoping that he wouldn't puke.

Lovino smirked a bit and gently pulled him back. "That little taste of your own medicine is a bitch, ain't it," he chuckled, pouring a second mug of coffee. He'd grabbed Antonio's favorite unconsciously. "There."

The man grabbed it and started drinking the bitter liquid quickly. "So what, now you're nice to me? You don't fucking make sense." He just didn't have the energy right now to be his normal self, and besides, that would be too loud.

"Yeah, I'm a real fucking enigma." He sat down across from Spain and sipped at his own coffee, propping his head up with his hand. "Well, now that I think you can see some logic in it, I think we should set some ground rules."

"Fuck that. Just get me a pillow and I can go to sleep." Spain rested his head on the table once he was finished his coffee, not wanting to deal with this anymore. Not wanting to deal with anything, actually.

"Oh no, fucker. Now's the perfect time. You want this kinda pain again?" When Spain stubbornly refused to respond, Lovino slapped his hand down on the table. Spain groaned, closing his hands over his ears. "Whatever! If you're asking me if I'm not gonna drink again, you're crazy. I just might not drink as much. But I still wanna drink." He had been drinking for years; he wasn't going to give it up for one bad experience.

"I don't care if you fucking drink, dumbass," Lovino scoffed. "But doing it every night isn't okay. You're gonna have to get a fuckin' job. I won't support your drinking habits. So tell me, what kinda steady pay job is gonna hire you with your attitude?"

At that he actually laughed. "Well, I hear selling drugs for the mob is a good gig." Spain lifted his head up to see the reaction, which was priceless. "But your lover-boy had a lot saved up, being a fancy doctor and everything. It won't be a problem to take it out. After all, I am now the closest thing to him right?"

"In appearance only," Lovino answered, downing the rest of the contents of the mug. "He was smart, but that money won't last you forever. He had insurance bills, phone bills, half of utilities... the list goes on." He leaned forward. "I can personally attest that the mob is a crazy fuckfest that'll screw you over so bad in the end that you won't even know who you are anymore. Try again."

Spain frowned again and closed his eyes against the harsh light in the kitchen. "Whatever. I don't need a job. There are people who don't have jobs and they do just fine." If it really came to it, then it would be easy to get vulnerable ladies to take him home and feed him, he might even fuck them if he could get it up for a girl.

But Lovino wasn't having any of it. His frown was deep-set and he leaned forward just ever so slightly. "Yesterday you said you wanted me. And you said that everything else could fuck off and die or some silly shit. So," and he hated playing this card, hated manipulation of the heart, but dammit, he couldn't just let Antonio's body fall to disrepair because Spain was too prideful to hear the voice of reason, "if you weren't just messing with my head again, you have to prove it. You have to fucking _listen _sometimes."

He looked up, because even though the pills had barely touched his pain, he had enough willpower to quash it instead. "You can't say that unless you're willing to do your part. If you want me to get a job because I love you then you'd better be fucking willing to let me touch you."

The Italian opened and closed his mouth silently, unable to formulate a response. He wasn't ready to be touched, not by Spain, not when it hadn't even been a day after the long bruise was blotched a sickly purple along his lower back. He remembered everything; the struggle on the couch, the plate, the marks on his neck and wrists. Spain's brand of love was toxic. But if what Spain had said was true, that Antonio had really loved him, he owed at the very least to keep his body healthy and intact. His own was a small price to pay, right?

"... You have to learn to be fucking gentle," Lovino finally answered, his voice cracking.

"I'm not gonna be a fuckin' pussy just so you can get your kicks, bitch," Spain sneered.

"It's not... fuck, you're an idiot, aren't you?" He grit his teeth. "Just because you treat someone right doesn't make you a pussy. Damn."

"If I treat you like Antonio did then yeah it makes me a pussy. He was so scared I'm surprised you two ever ended up fucking!" Spain grabbed his head, cursing at the pain.

Lovino growled, wanting so badly to take advantage if Spain's momentary weakness and thrash him. He curled his fingers into fists and counted to ten. "... You're an idiot," he said slowly, "even more than Antonio, but I know it's gonna take a lot of time for you to realize it, so I'm just gonna ignore your idiocy for now. Damned motherfucker." He grabbed a tomato from the basket and squeezed it gently. "You need a job. But you need to work on that attitude problem of yours first, because if you keep up with that ignorant pride, you're gonna lose everything."

"Fine, then get me a job as a bus driver because I can yell at whoever I want and kick people off for no reason." He was getting really irritated now, because god_damn_ he wanted to go back to bed and stop talking to Lovino. Spain just didn't want to think.

Incensed, Lovino slipped off the stool, rounded the island and grabbed Spain by his rich curls. He left a quick but dark bruise on the hungover, flailing Spaniard's neck with his teeth before pulling back out of reach, flushed an angry red. "Fuck you. If you want _anything _from me, you're gonna have to pull your damn weight around here." He snatched his tomato from the table and stalked out, intent on ignoring any qualms from the peanut gallery.

Rubbing his neck, a slow smile appeared on Spain's face. Lovino had just given him a hickey! "And you think _I_ should be more gentle." He knew that if he wasn't feeling so shit he probably would have been more pissed off, but as it was it didn't really matter.


	13. Chapter 13

Days passed. Between the stress of long hours with work and Spain, they blended and melded together, becoming a week after far too long. Even seven days dragged on for what felt like months had not been enough for Lovino to grow even remotely comfortable around Spain. The bruise on Lovino's back had faded to an off yellow, nearly gone, but another bloomed dark purple on his shoulder from when he had been accidentally shoved into the sharp corner of the door when Spain made a hasty entrance into the kitchen just a morning earlier. Lovino ignored it well, flipping through a cookbook for something simple and filling. His mind would not register what his eyes scanned over briefly, far away in a different time and place. He was brought back down to earth at a familiar photo in the cookbook; tomato basil soup. A fond smile made its way onto his face at the memory of wine and flirtation and creamy broth, a world away. Had it really been just a month, maybe two ago?

Up in the top left corner a small yellow sticky note was taped, a big green smiley face drawn there and something written in Spanish that he could not identify. Out of curiosity he flipped over to the pizza section and sure enough, dotting a few of the pages were more, lots of them smiling, some poking out their little drawn tongues, some with stars and hearts. Lovino recognized his name and _delicioso_ and a few terrible attempts at Italian. His heart swelled. "Hey, bastard," he called, "what do you think about that soup for..." And then he remembered, and with the memory fell both his smile and the mood. The one he lived with now would not place silly little notes in his cookbooks, or calmly discuss the gentler art of sexual variety, or take him to the balcony to speak sweetly and love him in front of the tomatoes, God, and everyone. He shook his head and closed the book with a snap of finality. "Never mind."

But Spain had still heard, so he walked into the kitchen. "What do you want? I'm not fucking cooking if that's what you're asking, because you making dinner was part of the deal." He sat heavily down on one of the kitchen chairs, grabbing a tomato off the center plate to munch on.

Lovino didn't trust himself to look at him with any semblance of composure, and didn't risk it. He knew Spain would know. "Yeah yeah, you're fucking useless in the kitchen, I know," he answered automatically, picking up the wireless phone and pulling the phonebook from one of the kitchen drawers. "I'm not hungry, but I can order takeout if you want."

"Sure, whatever. Just make sure it isn't that vegetarian shit." He rocked back on his chair, watching Lovino flip through the phone book. "Why don't you wanna eat? You sick or something? Not that I care, I just don't want you puking everywhere or something."

The Italian shrugged and looked over the takeout options. "What do you want then? There's pizza and Thai and that Chinese shit... you're not going to get anything authentic here, but what the fuck ever if you're hungry, right? There's a sandwich place that'll deliver. What the fuck is that, like I can't make a sandwich in my own damn kitchen..."

Spain watched him mumbling to himself for a few minutes before he got bored. "Alright, just get anything. It doesn't matter." He left the kitchen and went to watch something on tv. He hated being alone with Lovino for long periods of time, since it just got so awkward now.

Lovino could not help but feel relief when Spain was gone, his entire frame losing its rigidity. Well. Mostly. He called the pizza place and chose something vague and monotonous, something with meat and grease and carbs. Once he hung up, he stood for a moment before resting the phone back in its cradle. He lifted the cookbook to return it to its shelf, but he stopped himself and slowly cracked it open. The little yellow notes were still there, still smiling and he touched them gently, just around the edges. The sound of the television reminded him that Antonio was just in the other room... except he wasn't. An Antonio who was not Antonio had taken over Antonio's body. He stopped himself short of pressing kisses to the little yellow rectangles and carefully slid it back into place. He worried for a moment that Spain might find it, and if he did, Lovino just knew he would take the notes and burn them or shred them, and the thought sent panic rippling through Lovino. He wanted to take the book and hide it, but on the off chance that Spain did find it in a place where it shouldn't be, the out-of-placeness of it would make him investigate, and it would all be over. No, he decided, it was best to hide it in plain sight- back in the cupboard with all the others.

The Italian made his way to the living room to inform Spain that the pizza was coming and he'd already paid over the phone, but he received no response. Glancing over the couch, he found Spain fast asleep, his face calm and scowl-free, turned toward the droning television. His lips were parted and one arm was draped over his stomach, dark curls framing his face. They were getting long. Too long. Lovino reached down over the back of the couch, brushing them from his forehead without realizing. Numbly he thought that perhaps those weeks ago when Antonio cut his hair, he should have given him a trim to match the shave. Coarse hair lined the strong, dark jaw, probably had for sometime, and Lovino traced it with the very tips of his fingers. Why hadn't he noticed before? Antonio needed another shave.

Lovino retracted his hand quickly, his eyes wide. He couldn't touch _Antonio_ anymore. _Antonio_ would never touch him again, running fingers through his hair and gently snipping away when Lovino needed a trim. _Antonio_ would never again stand patiently and watch him with gentle eyes as Lovino left his face smooth and soft. His throat and chest constricted and he couldn't breathe, like his own thoughts had punched the air out of his lungs.

Spain opened his eyes at the feeling of something on his forehead, and he looked around and saw Lovino standing behind the couch, tears in his eyes. He didn't know why he was crying, and he didn't want to know. He sat up on the couch, and looked out the window to avoid looking at the brunet behind him. "... I'll be in my room."

Lovino was completely still until he heard the guestroom door close. He grabbed the couch for support, bending over it with his face in the cushions. He opened his mouth in a silent cry, his body shaking and jerking with every new wave of nauseous grief. He wanted a pair of knowing hands on his stomach, on his back, on any part of him. He just wanted Antonio. How cruel, he thought with a sob as quiet as he could make it, that he should have his only comfort stripped away only to be replaced with his worst fear in disguise.

Lovino must have lost track of time, for he was startled when the doorbell rang. Standing, he trudged to the door and opened it without a word, ignoring the surprise on the delivery girl's face - yeah, he was red and hideous from the tears, he knew - and with a hiccup he took the pizzas and shoved the tip over, closing the door before he could see if she had caught it all. Composing himself (silencing the noises involuntarily bubbling up from his throat, though tears still rolled unhindered down his cheeks and neck) he set the boxes on the island and shuffled to his room, wiping away the cooling moisture from his face.

A while later, Spain came downstairs to eat the pizza. He didn't know what he felt right then. He wasn't sure exactly what Lovino had been crying about, but it was almost definitely something about him. Which is why he left; he didn't want to make it worse. Knowing them, there would probably end up being yelling and everyone would feel worse. But he also felt bad for just leaving him there.

When Lovino came down hours later the leftovers were in the fridge and the dishes were washed. Spain was obviously in his room. He glanced around with a frown. Nervously he poked about, wondering exactly what Spain had done. Was the pizza box empty in the fridge? Was there a rogue piece stowed away somewhere to attract bugs? Spain had seen him cry, and he absolutely _hated_ it when Lovino cried, so the only logical explanation was that he would try to get back at Lovino, right? He was too tired to even go there, though, and slowly made his way back to his room.

And time dragged on slower still.

* * *

><p>"Shut the fuck up. There's no way your arms are any bigger. I could barely fit both of my hands around your damned bicep before."<p>

Spain heard the Italian talking on the phone from the open patio doors, but he didn't sound like his normal self. He sounded... nice. His voice was a bit higher than normal, and there was this sort of... almost-giggle when he talked. The personality went closer so he could see that Lovino was holding the phone with one hand and fondling the leaves of one of the tomato plants with the other. It actually looked like he was... flirting.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." Lovino stuck a finger down deep in the soil. "Me? Just laying around, watching TV, you know, normal shit. I actually called to ask a favor." A pause. Lovino plucked the newly ripened tomatoes and dropped them in a basket. "No, you can't." He made his voice go low and coy and fake. "No fucking way! My brother's over and- oh, you dirty fucker, you. The answer is still no, but I'm going to assume that since you're still the big, strong man you were three years ago, you might still be in the construction business? ... oh, you _are?" _He rolled his eyes, his voice high and sweet. Fuck what anyone else thought, he could imitate Feliciano like a pro. "Of course you were promoted as supervisor. Only a dumbass wouldn't think you were boss material."

Inside, Spain could hardly believe what he was hearing. What the hell was Lovino doing, whoring himself out like that? Why would he be flirting with some guy with big arms? He'd better not be planning on going on a date or some shit, that would just be too much.

Leaving the basket on the patio floor, Lovino stood and lifted the hanging goldfish plant from its hook and gently lowered it, picking off a few brown leaves. "Yeah, yeah... you're so full of shit. No, I just wanted to know if you'd maybe do me the favor of taking this guy I know into your little merry band of testosterone." He watered the plant and fondly stroked the green stalks. "Yeah? Could you? Please, please? I'd be so fucking grateful. He's been out of work for a while, on his last feet, and... well, we'll see. I'm not sure if I can. I have a houseguest. But you'll at least give him an interview, right? Tuesday? Thanks, you're fucking amazing. Talk to you later. _Goodbye."_ He clicked the power off and sighed, standing on his tiptoes to hook the plant back on its little white hook.

Finally impatience won out and the spying Spaniard stepped outside. Spain sneered at him, leaning against the doorframe. "What, gonna fuck random guys just to get me a job? That's fucking disgusting and you know it." He didn't even want a job. They were tiring and stupid, and he still had enough money to drink himself to oblivion, so what else did he need?

Lovino was startled by the sudden intrusion to his quiet space, though he was slowly getting used to Spain popping up whenever and wherever he pleased. Tense as he always was when Spain was with him on a very small open space eleven floors off the ground, Lovino watched him warily. "I'm not whoring myself out. There's no way I'd sleep with him again." He brushed back into the apartment with the basket, resting it on the kitchen counter past the living room. He set about washing the tomatoes one by one, heaving a sigh when Spain followed.

"Well that's sure as hell what it sounded like! How many fucking times did you talk about his muscles? And so what, he's your ex? Oh yeah that would be fucking _great _for me to go work with someone who's fucked you." He kicked a cupboard door closed, and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed.

Lovino sent him a sharp look. "We fucked _once,"_ he snapped, rubbing the soil from one of the cherry tomatoes, "and I made sure that was the end of it. He was a selfish fuck and I was uncomfortable the whole time. Then I left his sorry ass. He's just too stupid to resent me for it. So I used it to my advantage."

"I still don't like it." Spain looked away, still scowling. "You said construction. I wanted an easy job, not something like that. Fucking retarded job, only idiots would go into it." Basically, he just didn't really want to work, and coming up with stupid insults seemed to be the best way to get out of it.

"Then you might as well count yourself an idiot." Lovino tipped the moist tomatoes from the colander to the wicker basket. "You've been banned from all the other companies I've tried to get you into, and you're too much of an arrogant prick to work as a chef's apprentice, so this is the last resort. Maybe if you'd fucking _listen _to me when I tell you to behave yourself instead of acting like a spoiled brat, you'd already have a job and you wouldn't be in this mess."

Spain rolled his eyes, and sat down at the table. "They weren't my fault! The guy at the pizza place smelled like old cheese, and the manager at the coffee house was just _asking_ for me to throw coffee on him. Don't get me started about that warehouse!" This was why he didn't want a job, he didn't want to have to deal with people so much. It was hard enough dealing with Lovino all the time.

Lovino put the tomatoes on the table and gave Spain a weary glance. "Just fucking go. You're such a whiny bitch."

"Fine, I'll go." He looked away pointedly, something of a petulant pout on his face. "... And I'll fucking get the job just so you'll stop bitching about it!"

* * *

><p>The front door slammed closed. "That stupid fuck was such a dick! He wanted me to take a math test! A fucking math test! Like I'm some idiot! So I told him he could fucking shove his math test up his-" But then Spain realized that he was basically yelling to air. Lovino wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, so he went looking for him.<p>

Finally he followed the faint sound of a song through the home and found him in the studio. Spain slammed the door open, "I wouldn't wanna fucking work for that guy if he was made out of... Oh, I like this song."

Lovino watched him over his shoulder, eyes wide. The cacophony of trombones and trumpets filled the studio with music and color. He was astonished as Spain just... _sat. _Right there, on the floor, just dropped down and went quiet. It was amazing. Lovino didn't think he'd ever seen anything like it. Without a word he slowly went back to painting, his strokes long and green and even.

Spain listened to the song, almost humming along to it. He leaned against the wall, just listening. It had a great calming effect on him, all the anger from the failed interview was gone.

"You chill?" Lovino asked after the song had ended and another began, brushing the blue-sticky russet hair from his forehead.

He shrugged, and went to turn up the music. "I didn't know you listened to them. They're awesome." Which meant that Antonio had liked them just as much, and it always pissed him off how they had the same likes, but that's what happened with them.

Lovino nodded slowly. "Yeah... you were yelling about something. What was it?"

"Oh, just the fucking interview. That guy was an asshole." He waved it off, because he just wasn't pissed off about it anymore.

"So you don't have the job." Lovino sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrists. "Dammit, Spain... why do you have to be so confrontational?"

He rolled his eyes, the calm from the music wearing off the more Lovino spoke. "It's not my fault you keep sending me to fucking stupid places. If you would just let me start selling drugs, I could make huge bucks and not have to do much."

"If you even _think_ of selling drugs while you live under my roof," Lovino growled angrily, "I will call the cops and get you arrested so fast your fucking head will spin. That shit is _not _an option."

Spain stood up and went to look at the painting behind Lovino's shoulder. "Oh yeah because you're the perfect fucking citizen and never want to break the rules. Fuck. Grow up; we're not in high school."

Lovino's fingers clenched around the brush as he tried not to let his anger get the best of him. He would not punch Spain in the throat. He would not punch Spain in the throat. "You're the child," he said slowly, evenly. "I've seen the kind of fucked up shit that happens with drugs. You can think whatever you want, but it tears people apart. Men bleed their wives and kids dry for a high. Kids think it's the shit and trip themselves up and throw away their entire lives- fourteen year old junkies. Bitches will leave their fucking _babies_ alone in some roach-infested hole in the wall just to get high. Fuck that shit."

"Well I wouldn't have to _do _it, I would just be selling it. If I didn't, someone else would, so why not make a few bucks?" It made sense to him at least. He was looking at the painting, the fairly dark colours, and he put his hand on Lovino's shoulder. He felt the Italian flinch, but hell, he had been there for weeks already and he hadn't been able to touch him at all like he had led on.

The shorter of the two looked at the hand on his shoulder and followed it up Spain's arm, past his shoulder and chin and long, straight nose all the way to his eyes. It was a relief to see them mellow. "No drugs," he said quietly, accepting the touch with an unspoken hesitation.

There was a pause, as Spain looked to where his hand was resting. "... If you take your shirt off."

Lovino stiffened. His mind raced, but really, he reminded himself, it came down to two options; would he rather be half naked in front of Spain, or live with a junkie enabler? He lowered his eyes to the bottom of the easel. "What are you going to do?" he asked quietly.

"Does it matter?" He could already tell he was winning, otherwise Lovino never would have asked that. "Just fucking take it off. I've only seen you through his eyes and it pisses me off." Almost everything he had seen through Antonio's eyes, but he didn't think he could get the Italian to take everything off. Well, he could force him to, but then he would definitely be kicked out of the house.

Lovino closed his eyes tightly, grimacing. "Of course it fucking matters," he said in that near-silent cadence, slowly peeling the paint-smeared smock over his head and unbuttoning his pale blue shirt from the bottom.

Spain turned him around so he could watch, see the pale skin being slowly revealed. Yes, it was much better seeing this for himself. When it was unbuttoned all the way, he pushed the fabric from Lovino's shoulders. "Fuck, you have skin like a fucking girl. You really are a bitch aren't you?" He wanted that skin for himself. He wanted to burn every fucker who had touched him before then.

Lovino looked anywhere but at Spain, his brows knit in a furious glare. "Fuck you," he growled, curling in on himself self-consciously.

"If you'll let me," Spain said easily. Fuck, the music must have still been having an effect on him, because normally he would be yelling for some reason, hating being so quiet. He ran his hands down Lovino's chest, thumbs rubbing over sensitive nipples.

Lovino flinched, closing his eyes. "You didn't s-say you were going to do this." He berated himself ferociously for not achieving more than a pathetic whisper.

"I didn't say I wouldn't. You've been fucking leading me on ever since I came back here; it's time you payed up a little. And what are you complaining about? This isn't even getting me off, so shut the fuck up." Spain lowered his head and licked one of his nipples, taking it into his mouth.

Lovino bit his bottom lip so hard at that he gasped, tasting blood. "N-no!" He pushed Spain back, his eyes wide. "No, I can't, d-don't..." He wiped at his bleeding lip, stuttering protests.

His eyes narrowed and Spain pushed Lovino by the elbows. Not as hard as he once would have, but still certainly a shove into the painting. "Fuck you. God, you won't do anything! Screw this, I know guys who will actually put out! It's been too long since I've had a good fuck anyway."

The thought of Antonio's body with another was a painful shot to Lovino. "Wait!" He peeled himself from the wet paint, grabbing Spain's arm. "Don't, please. Don't."

"Why the hell not? We're probably the farthest away from dating as you can get, so what should you fucking care if I fuck someone else? I'm not getting anything from you anyway." He pulled his arm out of Lovino's grasp. How dare he try to stop him when he wouldn't even let him suck his nipples!

"Spain!" Lovino searched his mind for something to do or say. "Spain. Please." He was too easily pushed over into pained emotions. He needed to work on that. "I fucking... I c-can't now, but please, don't just..." He waved his arms, trying to express with them what he could not with his tongue. "Don't just go out for a fuck. Please."

He stopped and turned around. "Why should I? I've been here three weeks. You won't even let me suck your nipple. You just have to fucking accept that this is my body now, my life, so stop trying to help me just because you fucking miss that pussy."

"I'm scared!" he cried, a sudden outburst. His eyes were wide, but Spain was silent and he couldn't stop. "I'm fucking terrified of you, you prick. And everything you've ever done has only served to scare me more. How the fuck am I supposed to let you just... just do things to my body when every time you touch me it leaves me with bruises?"

Spain's nostrils flared in anger. He pointed to the closed door of the studio. "Did I fucking hurt you in there? You let me touch you, so I tried to be gentle! If you're never gonna give me a fucking chance then why should I even try to be nice? You're impossible! I can never fucking get anywhere with you! I try to be nice and you don't even fucking _notice_, you asshole! Why am I even here?"

"That's a good fucking question!" Lovino bit back, his body trembling with anger and fear. "You always let me convince you to stay! Why? It doesn't make any fucking sense if you're just going to go out and screw with some fucking floozy every time your dick gets lonely!"

"It's not just lonely, it's fucking _dying_! I haven't fucked for so long I'm having wet dreams of you! And I wouldn't stay if you weren't so-!" He stopped quickly, realizing that he had come dangerously close to saying something along the lines of gorgeous, perfect, infuriating.

"So _what?"_ Lovino hissed, wondering at Spain's suddenly sealed lips. He frowned and ignored the heat rising into his cheeks at the new knowledge he had attained. "Don't fucking whore yourself out like that. I'm not just saying it because... because of Antonio. Your body doesn't deserve that." He frowned, retrieving his shirt and sliding his arms back in. "I can't dictate your life, but dammit, have some self respect. You think I want to accept your advances if I know your dick's been in some fucking slut's disgusting orifices?"

Spain looked away, because he suddenly just really didn't want to be here. "We wouldn't have that problem if you were such a prude. And don't even fucking pretend that you care about my body, you just care about _Antonio_'s body." Which just happened to now be his body.

"I do care about your body," he snapped. "I know that Antonio's gone. _Fuck." _He hated himself for saying it, and covered his face with his hands. "Don't just assume everything, fucking asshole. I care."

That was new. Spain stepped back a little, if for no other reason than stopping himself from stepping forward. "Why do you care? You hate me, you've always hated me. You're scared of me- you just said it yourself."

"You scare the piss out of me," Lovino agreed, "but I don't fucking _hate_ you. I can't hate you. I know you too fucking well. I practically _am_ you." He smiled bitterly. "You think I don't know how it fucking feels to be in someone else's shadow when you're only trying to protect them from everything else? I understand exactly where you're coming from. I _know." _He'd figured it out all on his own, the similarities between he and Spain. It was uncanny, really.

It was strange. Spain had never had anyone say that to him before. But of course, he couldn't tell that to Lovino. "That's where you're fucking wrong. I'm not in anyone's shadow. Because he's not here anymore, so how could he be the better one? I won the body!"

"And what do you have to show for it?" Lovino felt heat gather in the corners of his eyes and blinked harshly. "No job, resorting to whores to get off, and then what? You have the body, but in the end, does it really fucking matter if you're not doing anything important with it?"

An exhausted smile appeared on Spain's face. Exhausted of this day, this conversation, everything. "But it was never really about the body, was it? Antonio can't have you, so in a way I win." Then he turned around and trudged up the stairs to his room. He was sick of dealing with this shit, trying to figure everything out, trying to prove to himself that his life now was still worth something.


	14. Chapter 14

Spain was startled awake one rainy Sunday morning by a jostle to his shoulder. "Get up. We're going out."

He groaned and pulled the covers over his face. "If I was more awake I would rip your balls off. Fuck you. I'm not going anywhere." But then the blankets were pulled all the way off the bed, and he sat up quickly. "Hey, what the fuck! You fucking _bitch_!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. Nearly two months of living with Spain had revealed that his threats were about as real as Lovino's, and that whenever a bruise or mark was left from an encounter, it was more of an accident than an intention to wound. Spain was like an overgrown, vulgar child who didn't know his own strength, though he exercised it often enough. "Stop bitching, you little pussy. It's almost noon, and I'm sick of being in this house. We're going downtown."

"I don't want to! You'll probably do something boring like go to a book store or some shit! I'll only go if we do interesting stuff- like go to a strip club!" It was funny, watching the girls wiggle around like they were hot shit.

"Ugh. Stop acting like a tactless straight asshole when you're a tactless _faggy _asshole." Lovino opened the door to Spain's closet and sifted through the few nice outfits there- the only ones on hangers and not in a pile on the floor. "We're going to the museum. I know you love them because Antonio did, and they've got a new exhibit. Something about old European civilizations and warfare." He grabbed a nice shirt and slacks and tossed them onto the bed at Spain's feet. "Wear that or we won't get ice cream on the way back."

He snatched the clothes with a glare. "Fuck you! I'm not some kid. You can't buy me with ice cream. But I'll go because this place is fucking boring." Since he hadn't slept with a shirt, he slipped the one on his bed over his head before starting on his pants.

Lovino averted his eyes. Damn that body and its never-changing sculpture likeness. "Like you're going to deny yourself ice cream," he scoffed, turning to leave. "Be ready in fifteen. I'm gonna shower, get this wet-ass dirt off my body."

"Why? You look better dirty." Now that he was dressed, he went to the bathroom to take a piss.

Lovino rolled his eyes as he went to his own bathroom, stripping down and stepping into the white-hot blast. Seven minutes later he was out and dressed, brushing his teeth and combing his hair to a presentable state. At fifteen he was at the door with a tomato in hand, tapping his foot impatiently. "Hurry up, princess," he barked down the hall.

Spain growled, putting his beer down. "Don't you ever fucking call me princess again or I'll rip you apart!" He got to the front door and stuffed his feet into his shoes. "If you want to go so bad then leave without me. I would rather do pretty much anything than go downtown with you."

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Lovino replied, unimpressed. "I wanna see some motherfucking battle axes and your constant bitchy threats are slowing me down."

"Oh screw you. You wouldn't even know how to use a battle axe! I could show you... by taking someone's head off their fucking shoulders." He mimed the action, his hands symbolically cutting off Lovino's head.

The Italian quirked a brow, the corners of his lips twitching. "Is that supposed to be an axe or a bat?" he asked, grabbing the keys and stepping out of the apartment. "I'm talking bigass, 17th-century viking shit, not some Little Tykes plastic toy."

Spain pushed him against the side of the door as he walked ahead of them. "Fine, when we get to this fucking museum, maybe we can steal a few axes and see which one of us would win? I bet I could take you without even using the weapon, you pussy." Of course they couldn't steal them in the day time, at that museum in particular they had way to many visitors, but at night...

"You are _such _a teenage ignoramus," Lovino said with a sigh, brushing himself off and locking the door behind them before traipsing toward the elevator that led to the parking garage. "What the fuck is it with you and felony? We're not stealing from a museum, and there's no way I'd be under the same roof as you with access to a battle axe. That's why reinforced glass and guards with taser-guns make me feel all safe and warm when we go out."

Spain got in the car with a snarl. It had been a while since Lovino had taken away his keys, pretty soon after he threatened to run over that old lady. "Come on, stop living by the rules. You need to feel that rush of getting away with shoplifting, that feeling of freedom you get from escaping the cops. And even you should know that the hottest place to have sex is in the principal's office. You need to do shit like that to live! Following the rules is for people who have a car they don't like to get to a job they hate that they need to pay off the fucking car."

Lovino started the car and pulled out of his spot. "Following the rules means that during murder investigations, you're safe. Following the rules means I have the right to be appalled by the twisted shit you deviants get away with. I know _you're _an idiot, but I try to learn from other people's mistakes."

"Fuck you. I've never killed anyone. I mean there was the bartender, but it was proven that he died from a heart attack so it wasn't my fault." Spain opened his window, the air from outside ruffling up his hair.

Lovino glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes and felt an odd, awful longing in his chest. He quickly looked back at the road. "That's crazy shit, and I don't have the time or energy to waste on the paranoia that comes with lawbreaking. I live with you, remember? That's stressful enough."

The Spaniard grunted, and looked out the window. Most of the trip was in silence, and Spain watched as the road got busier as they got farther into town. When they finally pulled into the big museum, he heaved a long sigh. "This place is going to be full of like school trips and shit. I don't wanna run into fucking kids all the time."

"Wah wah wah, that's all I hear anymore," Lovino said as he slammed the door shut and locked the car.

The museum was enormous, big enough to get lost in if not for all of the big multicolored painted footprints leading to the exit. Signs all over pointed toward the new exhibit, big arrows pointing west.

Spain soldiered forward to the new exhibit, not wanting to deal with all the boring shit. On the way he saw an interesting suit of armor with a red cape and a sword. Fuck that would be amazing... but he saw Lovino looking at him with a raised eyebrow, so he kept walking.

The first thing that caught the eye over the new exhibit was an enormous and tattered Spanish flag. Then, directly below, a tall, bulletproof glass case housing a beautifully crafted masterpiece of an axe. Lovino eyed its polished blade and ancient handle greedily, his fingertips light against the glass. "Hot fucking _damn, _that's authentic," he moaned.

Meanwhile, Spain was cursing the thick glass between him and the deliciously sharp and deadly edge of a nasty looking sword. You could almost see the old blood on the blade, the old sweat on the handle. Just imagining how many people had been taken down by the weapon had him in awe.

A hand grabbed at his arm. Lovino looked like a kid in a candy store, his eyes wide and alive. "Holy _fuck _this place is a goldmine," he said, quieting as his eyes followed a group of half-awed, half-bored kindergartners. They roved over to the beautiful sword and he gazed at it with longing. "You know what'd be hot as hell?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Guns. Big fuckin' guns. You know how fucking heavy-duty, if practically useless, 17th century pistols and rifles are? _Fuck _that is a fantastic blade."

"Or cannons. Just tear shit completely apart." Spain went over to the axes now, almost drooling. They were just so beautiful! He was fantisizing just how to somehow steal into the case and grab the weaponry in the dead of night when something grabbed onto his leg. Spain looked down to find a red-cheecked little boy clinging to him, tears pooling in his pale blue eyes. Spain's eyes went wide and he pulled Lovino's sleeve. "What do I do?"

Lovino looked just as confused. It's what he would have normally gone to Antonio for. Antonio was wonderful with children. How was he supposed to know?

Then again... _he_ knew how to deal with Feliciano _and_ Antonio _and _Spain. He could at least do more than gape like a retarded fish. So he would treat this as delicately as possible. Quick prayer that he wouldn't come off as douche-baggy as he knew he was prone to being, and crouch. "Hey kid," Lovino said quietly, craning his neck to look under the mop of pale curls falling into the child's face. "What's the matter?"

The little boy pressed his face more into Spain's pants, getting them wet from his tears. "I want my mommy," he wailed.

Spain, still not really knowing what to do, slowly put his hand down and awkwardly patted the kid's head. "Um, yeah? Where's your mom?" But the only response he got was the boy crying harder. Finally he got fed up and picked the little boy up in his arms. "Alright, point out your mom then."

Lovino stood and watched in minor shock and awe at the kid's fearlessness. A bit of respect welled up in his chest. The child wailed that he didn't know and Lovino patted his back once. "Hey," he said, doing his best to remove the brusqueness deeply ingrained in his tone, "don't worry. We're gonna find your mom, okay? You wanna tell my friend what she looks like?" Catching Spain's eye he mouthed that he was going to notify security of the missing child.

"Wait don't leave me alone with-!" But Lovino was gone, so he was forced to listen to the mumblings that he couldn't understand, but he was pretty sure that the boy had said his mom had "yellow" hair. Spain looked around for a blond woman, but the only woman in that room was the graying teacher. "Alright, where did you see her last?"

The boy, small, probably four or five, sniffed miserably and buried his face into the Spaniard's neck. "T-trains," he answered in a near whisper, clutching Spain's shirt in his small fists. As he went on, sobs choked his words, and they became more and more choppy every moment he opened his mouth. "Mommy and me, we were l-looking at the big red one, a-and I went to see the blue one, and then I c-couldn't f-find her!" He hiccuped.

What the hell was wrong with this kid? The trains were on the complete other side of the museum! Spain started walking toward that direction, looking for a blond lady, probably frantically looking around. "You can stop crying you know. You really can." But of course, he didn't.

A hand caught the back of his shirt and Lovino panted, frowning. "Why the f- uh. Why are you leaving?" He leaned closer. "Do you know how bad it looks for someone to be walking away with a kid? Especially a guy?" A tall gentleman with stern eyes and a uniform followed close behind. Lovino awkwardly patted the little boy's hand. "He's going to help us find your mama, okay?"

"But he said the last time he saw his mom was in the train room. Don't be such a bi- ah, idiot." Like clockwork, just as the words left his mouth, an announcement rang over the intercom system, announcing in a tinny, echoed fashion that a child was missing, making Lovino's face pale. The guard's radio went off halfway through the announcement, too garbled for the others to hear, but the portly man nodded and gestured toward the exit. "The mother's at the front desk."

"Finally. It's alright kid, you'll see your mom soon," Spain said with no small amount of relief.

Once at the front office, he tried handing off the boy to the security guy but the kid just clung onto him tighter. Lovino's lips twitched from restraining the laughter threatening to burst from where it welled inside his chest at the awkward, lost look on Spain's face until a relieved, fretful cry rang out and a blond woman rushed from another room, arms outstretched. In another language, Dutch or something like it, she crooned to the boy and swept him into her arms.

"Thank you," she said to Spain, her eyes red and damp. "I was so worried!"

Glad to finally be rid of the kid, Spain turned worldlessly and began to walk away and around a corner. Lovino was still talking with the security man and the mother, so he went to get a closer look at the suit of armor he had seen earlier just a ways up one hall. He was pretty sure that it would be fairly easy to get the helmet off, but that was probably the only part that would be easy. He first put his hands on it, glad that there wasn't an alarm.

"What are you _doing_?" Lovino's voice hissed into his ear, yanking him back by his shirt. "I turn around for five fuckin' seconds, and you start disassembling the armor! What's that about?"

Spain grinned as he slipped the helmet over his head and lifted the visor. "Stop being such a pussy. This thing was practically made for me! Wait 'til I get the sword..." But there was a shout from an unfamiliar security guard, and his large stomach didn't seem to impede his running. "Shit, come on!" Spain quickly jumped around a nearby corner, trying to get away. Of course, then he ran into an even larger security guard, this one almost seven feet tall. "Oh fuck."

"Fuckin' dammit, Spai- ow! Hey!" One of the guards twisted Lovino's arm behind his back. He winced. "What the _fuck_, man? I wasn't even-"

"You're going to be charged with property damage," the large man behind him growled. "And watch your mouth; there are children present. So let's not make a scene and mosey on over to my office."

"Stop fucking _twisting _then; that hurts!"

Of course Spain put up more of a fight. "Don't fucking touch me!" He punched the tall guy in the chest, since his face was too far away. The security guard made a move to grab his arms, but the former personality ducked and went for the guys legs, and they both toppled to the ground.

"I will use force if I have to!" the tall guard yelled, as he grabbed his taser gun. As Spain made to get up, and took the helmet off because he couldn't really see with it, the guard discharged the taser. Lovino tilted his head forward and, much in the fashion that he had used one of his first nights with Spain (though he was facing his opponent at the time), reared his head back into his guard's nose. Then began the chain reaction of events leading to Spain and Lovino's escape. When the man cursed and loosened his grip to inspect the damage with his fingers, Lovino lurched out of his grasp, taking a single step forward and swinging a soccer-toned leg upward, effectively kicking the taser from Spain's assailant. He shook his fingers and hissed, but the Italian spent no time watching either of the guards or the taser gun spinning off into the thin crowd that had begun to gather. He kicked the helmet (though perhaps a thousand times more gently) too, just in case Spain got any ideas, and yanked the Spaniard to his feet by his arms.

No words were needed, though plenty of curses were issued, as they bolted toward the exit.

Spain and Lovino stopped to catch their breath eight blocks from the museum, ducking into a flower shop for cover. Lovino clutched his chest, breathing heavily with his back pressed against a tall glass case filled with gardenias. "Don't ever fucking... never again," he panted with a glare.

"Fuck you; that was fun! And thanks for kicking the taser out of that guy's hand. I... wouldn't think you would do that for me." It was strange, having someone on his side in a fight. Usually he was all on his own.

Lovino shook his head and clutched at the stitch in his side. "What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Aagh, damn, I haven't run in forever. Fuckin' out of shape..."

Looking up, Spain saw a sweets shop across the road. "Well, why not get that ice cream? It'll cool us down." After all, Lovino had promised him some, and now they would both feel better.

The Italian acquiesced and held up a finger. "Just... just a minute. Holy _fuck, _I'm out of shape. What is this shit."

Slowly they made their way across the street (Lovino buying a small bouquet of carnations as an apology for all of the foul-mouthery in the old lady's shop) and into the store. Why did they keep going to places with kids? He hated censoring himself. It took too much energy. "What do you want?"

"The biggest fucking ice cream they have." He sat down as far away from any kids as he could get. Well, he got to wear an amazing helmet, look at weapons, and didn't get tasered or arrested. All in all, not a bad day. Besides, it was really nice seeing Lovino head butt that security guard.

At the counter Lovino ordered something enormous and chocolaty for Spain and a water for himself. He felt a little antsy and didn't want to be caught with a bellyache handicap if the police came after them or something and he had to run. He waited at the counter until the ice cream was scooped into the cone and carried it to Spain, taking one lick before handing it over. "Here."

He took the cone thankfully, taking a huge bite from the top. "So after this we're going home right? Unless you wanna go to a stripper bar. Or do something else against the rules."

"... if you mention _anything _like that again, I'm locking you out of the fucking apartment. That shit was crazy." He took a sip of his water, eying the door warily. "Fuckin' crazy."

"Bullshit, I saw that little smile on your face when we got away. Don't even pretend that it didn't make you feel great." Which is exactly what he had said before. The thrill of getting away with things like this made you feel alive.

Lovino gave him a look like he was insane. "I was _happy _that the guards were too fuckin' overweight to catch our sorry asses. I was scared as shit the rest of the time. I don't like being scared as shit. Pissing my pants? Not enjoyable."

Spain licked up a drip that was on his hand. "Stop fucking lying, you had the time of your life. It was almost as exciting as sex! Even if you don't admit it, I know you had fun." A mom was glaring at them from a few seats away, so he gave her the finger and she huffed and took the kids to another table. Served her right.

Lovino glared. "Cut that out. Poor kids don't need to learn to be as shameless as you and I." He held up an apologetic hand when the lady threw a glare over her shoulder. Lovino was tired. He sighed, propping his chin in his palm. "And sex is way better than that. Sometimes."

"Yeah sometimes, when you're not having sex with a guy who's afraid to fucking touch you. Sex with me would be the best experience of your life. I would fuck your mind out of your ear." Spain leaned back in his chair, looking around the shop for any hot guys, but the only other guys in the place were still kids.

"That is the single most grotesque image I think has ever been imprinted into my skull. Thanks, jackass." He glared at Spain and reached over, swiping a finger through his ice cream and sticking it in his mouth.

Spain watched him hungrily as Lovino sucked his finger clean. "Oh fuck, I want you to be sucking something else right now." Just from that his dick was already perking up. It had been way too long since he last had a good fuck.

Lovino blinked and quickly pulled his finger from his mouth, wiping the saliva onto his pants. "Shut _up,"_ he hissed, glancing around at the patronage. "Damn. If I'd known you were gonna be like that... I-I just wanted to show you I'm not afraid anymore." His ears burned and he kept his eyes averted.

"Yeah fucking right. If you're not afraid anymore, then prove it." Spain pulled his ice cream cone away so that Lovino couldn't get any more. After all, it was his ice cream. If the Italian wanted some he should have gotten his own.

Lovino frowned. "I bought the damn shit," he grumbled, "and I don't have to prove _anything. _If I say I'm not, I'm not. So there." Feeling a little petulant, he stuck out his tongue.

He rolled his eyes at the tongue, even though he wasn't acting any less childish. "You said you didn't want me to touch you because you were afraid. So if you're not afraid anymore, you should let me fucking touch you."

"When I said _touch_ I meant _rape,_ because you can't seem to tell the fucking _difference." _Lovino leaned back in his chair and took a sip of the water. "You can't just touch. You always have to take it farther than I'm comfortable. Which was why I was scared."

Spain's eyes narrowed and he gave a snarl. "I've been living with you for how fucking long now? I haven't raped you, and I wouldn't. But god I'm dying from blue balls! You must be too! It's been longer for you than it has for me!" Considering the week he had been free he'd fucked any guy who was willing.

"Yeah, but you only ever stop when I'm practically shitting myself. If you'd learn to take it _slow_, maybe I'd be more comfortable. But you can't get over your fucking pride long enough to just... Damn."

"If you ever gave me a fucking chance maybe you would like it! Stop acting like a fucking girl!" He stood up quickly and left the melting ice cream cone on the table. "I'm done. I don't wanna fucking be here anymore."

Lovino made an apologetic face to the few patrons of the shop and put an extra tip in the big glass jar on the counter before hastily following after Spain. He saw him try to hail a taxi and huffed, burning an angry red. "So you're just going to run off like you always do when you don't get your way? Gonna throw away your body like you always do when you're pissed at me?" The words almost stuck in his throat. It hurt to say them. But he wouldn't back down, even though Spain seemed to regard him with nothing but fury.

There never seemed to be a fucking taxi around when he needed one. "Why not? It's not like you give a fuck, and I don't care about anyone else." He hated these fights, because all they did was remind him of how much Lovino would rather have Antonio back. He was wondering now if it was even worth trying anymore, because it was obvious he would never actually get what he wanted.

Lovino felt the need to stomp his foot against the concrete. "Stop assuming I don't give a damn!"

People filed around them on the sidewalk, throwing odd disapproving and amused faces at them. Lovino didn't notice. "You're such an asshole! You make up all of these excuses not to mature when that's all I fucking want from you, and then you complain about _me_ not being happy with you! What's so fucking difficult about it?"

"Because I can tell! Antonio can read people's emotions or whatever, so I can too! I know that when you see me you think of him! That hasn't changed in the months that I've been here, so it'll never change! At least if you let me touch you I could have your body, if not your heart." Finally a cab pulled up on the curb, so he got in and slammed the door so Lovino couldn't follow him in.

Lovino's jaw locked. He tried not to let his expression become too dreadfully hopeless and rubbed at his eyes as the cab pulled away, pushing through the people that had paused to watch. "Stupid fuck," he muttered. "Stupid fucking fuck."

* * *

><p>The apartment was dark and quiet when he finally made his way up, and he was exhausted. It had only been a few hours, but it felt more like a week. The Italian took a quick shower to wash the scent of dry sweat from his body and stumbled to the living room to watch television, but before he could even change the channel from the cooking network, he stretched himself over the sofa and fell dead asleep. Spain returned just hours thereafter and once he had, he went straight to his room. He found a bag quickly (incidentally the same duffel bag Lovino had packed Antonio's stuff in when he had kicked him out) and quickly, the personality started stuffing everything he could find in it. Clothes mostly, but also toiletries and what was left of a case of beer. He wasn't sure where he was going to sleep that night, so he also grabbed the quilt Antonio had put on the bed when he first moved in. The hallway was small, so he didn't exactly make a silent getaway. Spain was surprised that he hadn't been stopped already.<p>

A curse woke Lovino with a start. He bolted upright, noticing Spain clutching his toe around the corner, a quilt on the floor and a bag on his arm. A feeling near to terror gripped him. "Where are you going?"

"Away from here," he grunted once the pain in his toe had begun to dissipate. He grabbed the quilt that had fallen and went once again for the door. Well, he _had_ almost made it without running into Lovino.

"No. You can't." Lovino blocked the doorway with his outstretched arms. "Dammit, Spain, you have no where else to go!"

He tried shoving him out of the way, but had to put the duffel bag down to do it properly. "Anywhere is better than here, waiting for something that will never happen!" At least if he was on his own he could live by his own rules, not having to worry about anyone besides himself.

Lovino pushed him back. "Don't be fucking stupid! I don't... you can't!" He winced when Spain grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. "Stop it!"

"Just get out of my way! I don't want to hurt you!" Spain yelled, finally dropping his bag and grabbing Lovino with both hands.

Gritting his teeth, the Italian grabbed the front of Spain's shirt and dragged him closer, breathing hotly against his mouth. "Don't... be a fucking idiot."

Spain's eyes went wide when Lovino suddenly kissed him, but quickly he closed his eyes and kissed back. His hands weren't holding him as hard now, and he pushed the brunet to the wall, pressing both of his hands on either side of his head.

Lovino gasped and bit Spain's lower lip in retaliation. _"Gentle, _motherfucker," he growled, knotting his fingers in the wild brown curls.

Green eyes looked at him, no longer angry, that energy converted into a different form, evident by the hardness pressing against Lovino's thigh. "Why are you doing this to me? It's fucking cruel to keep me here like this, like it's a fucking cage."

Lovino looked down at Spain's nose and counted the two tiny freckles there, just at the tip, the ones he had counted a thousand times as Antonio slept. He hadn't been so close to that body in months. He forced his eyes away, up into Spain's. They were darker, wilder. Not Antonio's. "I don't want you to go. I don't know why. I just don't. That's all I know."

"Fuck, you're such a _bitch_," Spain muttered, before stealing one last kiss. Then he pulled away, not wanting to be accused of taking things too far again, and looked back at his duffel bag. Fuck, a few minutes more and he would have been gone without regret.

Lovino frowned. He knew he must have looked like a child, glaring at the duffel bag. He hoped he wasn't pouting or something equally silly. "... Are you really going to leave?"

He sighed and picked up the bag. "I guess not. Fuck. Unless you want me to." Because if Lovino wanted him to leave, it would be easy to go. But after _that_, he knew he had to stay. At least until the next fight.

Lovino shook his head, using the wall as his support in standing. His voice was small and quiet, barely more than a mumble. "I don't. And I'm not gonna lie and say I'll just let you go if you try." His eyes met Spain's in shy determination. "I'll always try to stop you."

Spain didn't know what to say to that so he didn't say anything. Instead, he just took his bag back up to his room. He didn't bother unpacking it; that would be too much effort. This was getting so fucked up. It was like he was underwater and didn't know which way was up.


	15. Chapter 15

Three weeks of hopeless awkwardness ensued from that point on. Spain had many a time attempted to further the kiss, but Lovino was slow to relent, allowing kissing and tentative touches, but never more. He appreciated that the Spaniard, though frustrated at the lack of progression, was taking care not to upset the fragile balance of truce between them. He was more or less respectful of Lovino's barriers, and because of that Lovino rewarded him with awkward kisses and did nothing to refuse Spain when he took charge.

On the fifth day of the third week, Lovino settled on one side of the island in the kitchen and poured himself a glass of tomato juice, glancing over the surface at Spain. "Thanks for fixing the broken coat rack. Motherfucker was pissing me off."

He shrugged and sat down on the opposite side. "Yeah." Cheekily he looked up at Lovino. "Antonio never could have done that shit. He'd end up having the whole thing fall on him or something. Useless fucker." He glanced over to the window to the tomato plants outside.

Lovino ignored the faint constriction in his chest that followed the mention of Antonio's name every time and spun the pasta around on his fork. "Okay, so this has been bugging the shit out of me. If you like the things Antonio likes and feel what Antonio feels, why are you so adamant that you're different people?"

"We like the same things, but we deal with things differently and act different and shit. We have different talents. My talents are handiwork, beating the shit out of people, and fucking the shit out of lucky bitches. His talents are being, like... sensitive and shit. And obviously we deal with things different, he loves you and kisses you and hugs you, and I... Well, I usually get jealous as fuck, don't I?" Spain still wasn't looking at Lovino, because then he would want to kiss him again and see just how far he could push the boundaries.

"He _used _to," Lovino reminded him quietly, not liking the sick roil in his stomach. He nodded. "How's the food? Don't lie, you know it's scrumptious as fuck."

Spain spun his pasta around his fork idly, and gave a grunt. "If you know then why did you ask? Just looking for a compliment?" He finally looked over to him with a smirk. "Besides, you know that I would rather be tasting it from your mouth."

Lovino rolled his eyes, his cheeks a little pink. "Right. Because mushed up, spit-y pasta sounds sooo appetizing."

"It's not so much about the pasta, it's more about kissing you." Spain watched for the reaction, but Lovino just rolled his eyes again. He took another bite of his food, hardly even chewing it before he swallowed.

"Slow down," the Italian said, taking a bite of his own. "You're supposed to savor it." He paused and then added tentatively, as Spain seemed to be comfortable approaching the topic, "... Like a kiss."

He looked up from his plate, the smirk back. "Oh yeah? But then wouldn't I have to stop eating before getting to the good part? Since that seems to be how kisses go around here." He wasn't exactly sure what the good part would be for the spaghetti. Maybe the meat balls.

"It's the pleasure in the taste that's the most rewarding, not the end of the course," Lovino argued without malice, sipping at his tomato juice. "You can't rush everything. It takes time to appreciate a good thing."

"But if you never get to the _great _thing, then what is the point in only having the good thing?" Spain grunted, stuffing another forkful into his mouth. He wasn't really complaining though, since he at least got to kiss Lovino every so often, and once had even given him a hickey. Easily hideable, of course; if he had given him one in an obvious place Lovino would have thrown a hissy fit.

Lovino couldn't argue with him there. Well, he _could… _he could argue that gravity didn't exist until he was blue in the face, too, but his heart wouldn't be behind it. "I'm leaving on Monday for a culinary competition in Maine," he said after a moment, clearing his plate.

The Spaniard just finished his own food. "What? That's far away. Sounds stupid. You shouldn't go."

Lovino laughed evilly. "It's gonna be televised and my plane ticket's been paid for. There's no getting around it. I haven't judged a competition in forever, and it'll only be for a week. I'll be back next Sunday."

"A whole week? What the hell kind of competition is this? It sounds like it should be like a weekend, tops. Why would you want to do something like that? What the fuck am I gonna do for a week?" He had given up looking for a job a while ago. Well, more specifically, Lovino had stopped looking for a job for him, so what was he supposed to do?

Lovino shrugged. "Find a job. Volunteer your time. You're good at building and fixing things; why don't you put that skill to good use? It's only a week. You'll be fine." He smirked. "Watch the ads of me on TV."

Spain was gloomy for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>He crossed his arms, blocking the door. "This is stupid. Who gives a fuck about those stupid culinary shows anyway? If you leave, what's stopping me from going out at night, getting drunk, and fucking every guy I see?"<p>

Lovino smothered his sigh and put his bag on the floor before reaching up to slide his fingers through Spain's hair, pulling him down against his lips. He spent a moment like that, moving his mouth gently against Spain's, waiting for the temper in him to cool. He pulled back then, huffing. "I don't believe you will. I trust you, dammit."

"Well… you shouldn't! If you leave, I'll start smoking. In the house. And I'll eat all the tomatoes, and I'll fuck at least one of the neighbors, and I'll hide that picture of you and your brother when you were kids somewhere you will never find it ever again." Spain put his hands on the door frame so that there was no way Lovino could get past.

Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose. "Spain. Don't be stupid. I have to go. This is my _job._ I know you don't fully understand the implications behind it, but without this, I can't keep supporting _your_ lifestyle. It was easier when I had help making payments on the rent and utilities, but since it's only me, I have to take every opportunity to make money I get. _Capisce?" _He lifted his bag and moved forward. "So let me go."

Finally Spain huffed and stepped aside. "Fine, go, see if I care. I don't need you." He went into the living room and plunked down on the couch, not wanting to see Lovino leave.

Lovino looked at the door and back at Spain. "So do you really mean that or should I call when my plane lands?"

"Whatever. You could crash and die in a fucking horrible fireball for all I care." He knew he was just being stupid and grumpy, but Spain didn't give a shit how he was acting. Even though he knew that he would stay at home just in case the phone did ring, he could pretend like he didn't give a shit.

"Fine. I won't call then." Lovino fished the keys from his pocket and locked the door behind him upon leaving.

Lovino had intended to call Spain anyway, knowing him well enough to understand that he was only pouting when he said what he'd said, but as soon as the plane landed and he was out of the aircraft, he was swept away by cameramen and the assistant to the producer and stuffed in a car. He was filmed on the way, pleased that he didn't have to force a weird smile on his face. He was well known as a sharp critic, never one to grin when he could help it. He forgot all about calling Spain until deep into the night when he was settled in a villa by the ocean and about to tuck himself into bed. Lovino grabbed his phone and dialed home, yawning widely.

Spain picked up on the second ring. "What?" he demanded. It had been eight hours, eight fucking hours since Lovino's plane had taken off, and he knew very well that it was only a one hour flight. But of course, that wasn't why he had stayed up. He had stayed up because there was some action movie on and he wanted to watch the whole thing. And the next one.

Lovino rolled his eyes and turned off the lamp, snuggling under the covers. "Well if you're gonna be a Pissy Patty, I'm just going to hang up."

"You didn't call," Spain said simply, his unintentional pout from before coming back. Now for some reason he was no longer interested in the movie, so he turned it off and went to his bedroom to start getting undressed.

"You told me not to," Lovino retorted, glancing out the enormous bay window toward the ocean. "Were you putting on a front?"

Spain snorted, holding the phone with his shoulder as he took his pants off. "Of course not. I still don't give a shit if you call, I was just expecting you to anyway." Which is why he had been surprised that the phone was silent for eight fucking hours. That's all.

"Then I can hang up? And I don't need to call for the rest of the week?" the Italian replied. Waves crashed against the beach and inside the snug little villa, he could faintly hear them. They weren't at all like the beaches of Corsica, but... it was still the ocean.

He used the pause as he took off his shirt to think about what to say to that. "Well now that you called already, we might as well talk. You're always complaining how rude I am, and it would be rude to not ask how your day went. Or something. Fuck, whatever, hang up if you want to."

"My day was busy as hell," he answered, ignoring the last part. He understood that it was just a cushion for rejection. "Camera's always in my fucking face. I have to censor myself like I'm around kids all the time. I don't even get to eat any of the competitor food until the trials start tomorrow." He closed his eyes. "It's a bitch. What about you?"

"You know, tried some heroin, brought a male prostitute home and fucked him on your bed, broke most of the plates in the house. Stuff like that," Spain said easily, slipping into bed. Of course he would never use a male prostitute. They were probably full of crabs.

"Better not have been the good china, motherfucker," he said with a little smile, sighing into the pillow. "It's late. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Spain rolled over and turned the light off. "It's not like I have a fucking bedtime. I can stay up the whole night if I want to. With the right drugs I could stay up the whole week." But mostly he just had a few beers, which didn't work so well for staying up late.

"I dunno. Sleep sounds a billion times better than drugs right now. Well. Always. But especially now." He yawned widely. "So? Drugs or sleep?"

"Whatever. For drugs I would have to go all the way downtown, and find a dealer, and that isn't too easy since you took my fucking keys. So I guess it would have to be sleep." Besides, he was pretty tired anyway.

Lovino felt himself begin to fade in and out of half sleep and made a noise. "Mmnh. Go to sleep then. It's late."

Even before he could say anything, Spain heard the click on the other line. He huffed and closed the phone, settling in to try and sleep.

* * *

><p>The week had passed quickly after that, calls exchanged nightly between Spain and Lovino. Parting with the crew, the chefs and the delicious, unhealthy foods, Lovino had entered the airport. Glancing up at the flight departure screen he scowled. His flight had been delayed. People bustled around him and he pulled out his phone to call Spain only to find that his battery, which had been running low, had died.<p>

Walking to his terminal, Lovino began to dig around his sparse luggage and gaped. He had left his charger in the villa! Cursing himself, he shoved the phone in his pocket and folded his arms over his chest. No way he was going to pay three times the price for another charger at the airport than it was worth. The delay couldn't possibly be long enough to worry Spain.

When he arrived home at nearly two the next morning he felt like a zombie; exhausted, his body moving sluggishly of its own accord into the quiet apartment. He was going to do nothing but collapse and fall dead asleep in his own bed.

But Spain quickly spoiled that plan. Reacting to the sound of the front door snapping shut he rushed out of his own room and skidded into the hallway, pushing Lovino up against the wall. "What the hell?" he growled to the startled Italian. His eyes were bloodshot and narrowed into accusatory slits. "What the fuck do you think you're doing! You think it would be fun to just fuck off and think I didn't know when you were supposed to be home? What were you doing? Were you with someone else? Was there even a contest? You little bitch! Do you know how worried I was?" He knew he was talking so fast that Lovino didn't even have time to say anything, but when he was finished he was panting, red faced, his hands still pressing the Italian into the wall.

Lovino watched him with wide eyes, fully awake again. "W-what? Of course there was a competition. I wouldn't lie about that. If you'd watch the food network, you would have seen previews." He watched the wildness in Spain's eyes tense. "I-I'm sorry for worrying you... My flight was delayed, and my phone died. Y-you're hurting me, dammit."

Just then realizing how hard he was holding him, Spain pulled away and backed up to the other wall of the hallway. "But... there had to be pay phones, or something. You should have called! I didn't know what happened! I thought that-" He didn't finish his sentence, because he had thought a lot of things. That his plane actually had gone down, despite there being nothing on the news. That he had been kidnapped by someone. That he had just left. And, obviously, that he had been with another man the whole time.

Lovino rubbed at his pulsing skin and looked over Spain's body, his lips parting. "Holy shit... What happened to your eye?"

Spain blinked and looked away. "I didn't get into a fucking fight if that's what you're thinking. I went to the bar, ended up calling this guy a mother fucking cunt because he was trying to feel up the waiter, and he punched me." He sniffed and rubbed his jeans with his suddenly sweaty hands. He hadn't bothered changing in case he had to go out because something happened to Lovino.

Lovino pushed himself off the wall and crept closer, reaching out and touching just under the bruise. He winced sympathetically. "Doesn't it hurt like a bitch? You should see a doctor or something."

"This is nothing. I've had worse." He turned his face to the side so Lovino would stop looking at it. Then Spain reached over and turned the light on, so he could actually look at Lovino. "So nothing happened? Really?"

"What do you- oh, for the love of Mary, just let me see it - what do you mean nothing happened? I'm alive, aren't I? No tragic plane crashes. No terrorist attacks in the terminal."

Finally letting the Italian fret over the bruise, Spain gave a sigh. "But you probably thought about it, didn't you? Just leaving? All Antonio's other boyfriends left as soon as they met me. And in high school, the foster parents would always send us back when I came out. So I wouldn't be surprised if you left. Maybe you should leave. It would be easier." But despite his words, his hand had at some point grabbed onto the hem of Lovino's shirt and he didn't want to let go.

Lovino's heart ached; he could practically feel Spain's hopelessness seeping in through his very pores. "I would never leave because you're different than Antonio," he said fiercely, cradling Spain's face in his hands. "I know exactly how it feels. You _know_ I do; you've used it against me. Everyone I've ever known has preferred my brother to me. I get it, and I will _never _fucking leave you because of Antonio."

Spain didn't say anything after that. He just tightened the hold on Lovino's shirt, bringing him closer. Hesitating only a second, he then kissed him once he was sure that the Italian was alright with it. After all, it had been too long.

Lovino allowed him to kiss and touch, clumsily gentle and painstakingly careful. He parted with familiar lips after a moment, pulling Spain toward his bedroom. Once inside he slid under the covers first just after slipping out of his shoes and socks, receiving Spain into his arms when he was followed and softly touching his jaw, eying the awful bruised eye in the moonlight. Spain was a bit surprised that he was let into Lovino's bed. After all, he hadn't slept in it since the night he had been extremely drunk so long ago. But he was glad that he could, because for the last week, his own bed had seemed incapable of letting him sleep. Spain pulled his face away. "Stop looking at it. I'm not a pussy. I can take what I dish out."

"Shut up," Lovino mumbled. "If you really didn't want me to look, you shouldn't have provoked anybody. It's awful. I can see it in the _dark."_

Spain rolled his eyes and took Lovino's hand down and kissed him again. When he pulled away, he kept the dark, fair hand in his. "It's not like I could just not say anything. The guy was a fucking jerk. No matter how hot the waiter was, I still wouldn't grab his ass."

"That's..." Lovino cleared his throat. "I'm impressed. I... thank you." He averted his eyes, choosing instead to look at Spain's chin. "It's not... before you and Antonio, I couldn't... dammit." He wanted to free his hands to wipe at his eyes, but Spain held them captive. "Just thanks for not dicking around with someone else. I hate that shit. It doesn't matter how many times it's happened, it hurts just the same every fucking time. Thank you."

Finally the familiar smirk was back on Spain's face. "What are you talking about? You're forgetting I fucked a prostitute in your bed while you were gone."

Lovino laughed wetly, bonking his forehead against Spain's chin. "Then you'd better have washed my bedding. I might get crabs or some shit."

"Well, people always tell me to share." His eyes strayed to Lovino's lips, and Spain leaned forward to kiss him again. He might have been pushing it, but he had a whole week to make up for, didn't he? He deserved at least a few more.

The Italian yielded his mouth to Spain, parting his lips in silent permission. Obviously not needing to be asked twice, he felt Spain's probing tongue in his mouth. He tasted faintly of beer and... But Lovino wasn't going to think about familiarity and longing. He was moving on. He had nothing to mourn. And Spain had been lonely for as long as he had. This was okay. This was fine.

Spain gave an involuntary moan into the kiss, but pulled away. "Fuck. I should stop... I should go. Being in bed with you, kissing you, it's... fuck." He fisted a hand in his curly hair, sitting up and looking at the door. He was already hopelessly hard, and if he got away now then he could quickly beat off and maybe even get some sleep, without _scaring _Lovino or whatever he always seemed to do.

Lovino's voice pierced what Spain must have perceived to be an awkward silence. He made no move to confine or reject. He only said, very calmly, "Stay."

There was a frustrated grunt as Spain took his hand away from his hair. "Only fucking ask that if you know and accept the consequences." He knew he had calmed down these past few months, even though it pissed him off a bit to admit that to himself, but there was no way he could change that much, to not want sex anymore. He still wanted it, but he knew that if he just took what he wanted, Lovino would hate him forever. And one moral he had always kept was doing it with a willing partner.

"You think I'm stupid? I know what you want." Lovino scowled. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't understand. It's your choice. You just have to ask."

So Spain turned around, an eyebrow raised. "Yeah? You're sure? Remember, I'm not like Antonio, and I don't fuck like he did." But now that he pretty much had permission, he was a little apprehensive. Could it be true? After so long not being able to, would Lovino really let him?

"I know who you fucking are," Lovino said and smiled bitterly. "Should I be worrying about you thinking of fucking Feli instead?"

"Shut up." Spain crawled over, putting a hand on Lovino's thigh. "I actually think I would rather fuck the German than your brother. He would probably whine the whole time."

"Ugh." Lovino shuddered, sliding his hands over Spain's shoulders and pulling him nearer. "I _really _don't need the mental image of you and the potato-licker together like that."

Spain grunted his agreement. He started lifting Lovino's shirt, quirking an eyebrow to ask permission. When he got a small nod, the personality pulled it the rest of the way off. There were two bruises already forming on his shoulders from where he had grabbed him.

Lovino winced as Spain moved his hands over the tender, dark skin. "Fuck, don't... don't make it worse," he mumbled, sliding his fingers through Spain's hair and pulling gently.

"I... didn't mean to, you know." That was probably as close as he would ever get to apologizing about something. Spain then stopped touching the bruises and slid his hands over Lovion's smooth skin, over his neck, throat, and chest. Experimentally he pinched Lovino's nipple. Lovino jolted, his body recognizing the sensation instantly and perking to accommodate it. He groaned low when Spain rolled the hardening nub, little shockwaves of delight moving through his body.

"I know," he murmured, his breath hitching when Spain's thigh brushed against his slowly awakening cock.

Spain bit his lip to stop himself from pushing Lovino down onto the bed. "Alright, so like what will you let me do? I mean, can I actually fuck you? Or what?" This was getting so fucking confusing. He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. After all, he had never done anything with someone he actually cared about.

Trying to calm his breathing Lovino nodded, nervously glancing up into Spain's eyes. "B-but you can't just... just do it, you know? It's b-been a while, and I'm not... my body isn't ready t-to just take it... so you have to take the time to, you know..."

"Yeah, I know. Do you have lube? Maybe condoms?" He pulled away and went to the drawer he knew Lovino used to keep his supplies in. Unsurprisingly, he found the half empty bottle of lubricant that had been used the last time he had sex with Antonio.

Lovino propped himself up on his elbows and watched at Spain take the lube out. A feeling akin to de ja vu swept through him. He knew exactly how that hand would feel pressing against him, around him, inside of him. He knew how it would sting at first, how quickly he would relax, his very muscular tissue recognizing Antonio and yielding to him.

But he _wasn't _Antonio. Lovino shook himself, his heartbeat racing painfully. He wasn't giving himself to Antonio at all. He would just have to learn to accept it. This was how it was to be from now on. No more Antonio. Spain loved him too, in his own way. Spain had sacrificed so much of himself for Lovino's benefit. Spain had fought to keep his identity, even though Lovino wanted, and maybe even needed, him to change. A sob wrenched from Lovino's chest before he could stop it and with a hand clasped to his mouth he stared wide-eyed at Spain.

The personality stood still, the lube still in his hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he should have known this was going to happen. It was too good to be true. Everything was still about Antonio. He slowly walked to the bed, and left the lube on the dresser. "It's never going to be me, is it?"

Lovino felt helpless. He moved forward and stopped himself just before he reached Spain. He knew he was probably going to be hit or shoved, but he knew how far worse the pain of inferiority was. "Spain," he began brokenly, but there were no words to follow. Lovino didn't know what to say. Warm, salty drops tickled his cheeks all the way down. He hated himself for not being able to forget, and for hurting the only one left who loved him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Spain said, looking away. "Just... don't."

Lovino slid off the bed and grabbed him then, pulling him close. He knew the pain in the worst way, and being left alone to fend it was too brutal to bear. He cried into Spain's shoulder for everything they had lost. When they fell slowly to the edge of the bed and then to the floor Lovino cradled Spain to him, stroked his hair and tried to reassure himself, whispering furious apologies under every breath. Spain stayed silent the whole time, even then not letting one tear fall. He knew it wasn't his place to be in Lovino's arms, but he couldn't help himself but to stay there. Everything was just shit. He wasn't meant to be there. It wasn't doing either of them any good. He didn't even know why he had stayed for so long, but now that he did it was too late. The trap had closed, and he couldn't just leave anymore.

As he was falling asleep, Spain had so many conflicting thoughts in his mind that he was getting a headache. He loved Lovino. But... so did Antonio. And, despite everything, he still cared for Antonio. After all, he was just like the little boy he had always protected from everything. Over the years, with everyone hating him and loving his counterpart, he had grown spiteful.

The difference was that Lovino loved Antonio. Of course he said that he still cared for Spain, and he did, but he _loved_ Antonio. Lovino could never truly be with Spain, no matter what he said.

It was late, and exhausted by tears and worry, the two fell into a fitful sleep curled against each other on the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

I just have to say that I think it's amazing how many different opinions you all have on... well, everything. About Spain, about Lovino, about how the story will end. I can honestly say that every single thoughtful review made me smile. You guys are so cool! And before you read the chapter, just know that Tyger and I approached many times during the formulation of this fic how it would end, and we decided that what we came up with would me the most satisfying... for us. I hope you enjoy it just as much as we did. (We looked forward to writing this chapter since the beginning of Spain's arc, if that clues you in on how badly we wanted this. We even gave it a name.)

* * *

><p>The autumn sun was slow in rising and it was already well past dawn when Lovino woke. He was sore and a little fatigued, drained and worn from his tears spilled only hours prior. The Spaniard was still nestled around him and in his arms, dark curls rested on his shoulder. Lovino could feel Spain's nose pressed against his collar, warm breath fanning over his neck. With a sigh the Italian rested his cheek against the sleeping man, kissing the top of his head in a fashion too gentle to disturb.<p>

His eyes drifted to the window. A gray dove perched on the windowsill and glanced around at the room from the outside, meeting Lovino's eyes. He blinked. It cocked its head. Spain stirred, and Lovino's attention was broken, glaring only momentarily at the dove as though it were to blame.

When the Spaniard finally opened his eyes and stirred to the waking world, he froze.

This... wasn't right. But... on the other hand, it was so right that he didn't know how he had lived life differently. All of the sudden, everything was right in his head. "What happened?" he breathed in confusion, pulling away from Lovino and pushing himself up. He asked even when he knew. He didn't know how he knew, but somehow, it just was. It was so obvious what had happened to him if he considered it, but still so _strange_.

Lovino's expression could not have better shown his confusion if the word 'baffled' was written across his forehead in pink. He looked up at the man, a little too nervous to stand himself. "What do you mean, what happened?" Spain couldn't have been drunk the night before... he hadn't smelled any alcohol on his breath, and he'd seemed perfectly lucid.

He looked at Lovino as if seeing him for the first time, eyes wild. Of course he wanted to kiss him, hold him tight, but he was dealing with way too many things right now, trying to figure out who he was, so the brunet just backed up and ran a hand through his curly hair.

Lovino's brow furrowed. He pushed himself up by the edge of the bed. "S-Spain?" he asked, taking a tentative step toward him.

"I'm not Spain." He looked straight into Lovino's eyes. No he didn't feel exactly like Spain, but he wasn't really Antonio either, was he? More like… he was both, almost, all mixed up into one, like they had both been put into a blender and left to see what would happen.

Lovino, though, did not understand. He looked hopelessly lost, and then furious. In a sudden burst of anger he kicked a pillow that had fallen to the floor. "Fuck!" he cursed. "They said there were two, only fucking two. Now there's a third?" Helplessly he turned to whoever Spain had become. "That fucking prick Spain left me, too? Tch. So much for _love_."

But he shook his head quickly. "No, just… shut up! I'm not another one. I'm Antonio."

At that, Lovino's entire body froze. An overwhelming hope engulfed him before he shook himself and crushed it down. His words tripped over his tongue. "You're not... You can't be. S-Spain said Antonio was gone."

"Just shut up! I'm trying to think!" he yelled, pacing around the room. But then he looked up again into Lovino's startled face, sheepish. "… I'm sorry I yelled. There is just a lot I'm trying to figure out right now." Because he wasn't just Antonio anymore. He was, but he wasn't.

Lovino frowned, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "What the fuck?" Antonio would never have told him to shut up, so that must have been a lie... but Spain wouldn't have apologized for it. So... Oh, this did nothing but give him a headache. He didn't know what to do or what to think. It couldn't have been Antonio, though, he was sure; Antonio would have held him by now. He wrapped his arms around his own body. "You're not Antonio."

"Yes I am. Mostly." He stopped pacing around the room and looked at him. Now that he had some time to be this person, he was beginning to understand it more, and his head wasn't as messed up. Antonio sat on the bed and motioned for Lovino to do the same.

Tentatively Lovino complied, keeping a considerable distance from... whoever this was all the same. He watched with a critical, harsh eye. "What?"

Antonio sighed, trying to think of how he could explain it when he hardly understood what happened. "I am kind of... Antonio and Spain put together. All in one personality. I have… uh, well, I remember everything." Which was really strange, to have two memories of the same events.

Lovino frowned. "That's the shittiest excuse for a personality I've ever heard. How am I supposed to believe that?"

"Well it's true. I... Well, I mean Spain felt really bad because you could never be together. So now here I am." He turned his body so he was facing Lovino and put his hand on the Italian's leg. "Please believe me."

Eyes wide on the hand, Lovino glanced quickly from it and into the pleading green eyes. He was always a sucker for those eyes. He looked down again.

"... prove it," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Antonio lifted an eyebrow. "How the hell can I do that? I don't understand." Because anything he said wouldn't really prove it.

Lovino scowled and pulled his leg away out of the Spaniard's grasp. "The fuck do you mean _how? _You must have come to that conclusion somehow. Why don't you tell me?"

"Well, what would convince you? I mean it's not like I can just let you see my thoughts and see that it's both Spain and Antonio combined. I mean, I remember times when Spain was in control, and I remember things from when Antonio was a kid. But I think I'm mainly like Antonio. Maybe."

"That's... that doesn't make any sense!" Lovino protested, standing up. He clutched a fistful of hair in his hand. His expression was one of helplessness. "Dammit! I don't... I don't even know who you are! I don't understand! S-Spain said that Antonio was gone! And now you're saying..."

He stood up and pulled Lovino's hand down from his hair. "Not completely gone, though I might as well have been. I don't understand it completely, but I promise you that I still love you." Antonio pulled him by the arm to press a kiss to his lips.

Lovino's heart leapt into his throat. He pulled back, eyes wide. ".. N-no way.." Seized with emotion, he lifted his trembling hands to Antonio's face, uncertain and overwhelmingly hopeful. "Fuck... Antonio...?" The earnest look there was too familiar, too much. "D-do you even know how much I've missed you, you stupid piece of shit?" The Italian wiped at his own eyes and launched himself at him.

He fell back to the bed again, holding Lovino close to him. Antonio felt like he missed holding him, and like he had never held him like this all at once. It was a strange feeling, but it just made him bring Lovino even closer.

Lovino sniffed pathetically, nuzzling Antonio's shoulder. "Fuck, I missed you. Stupid asshole." He knew that embrace. It was the only one that could make him feel so... complete. Like he was a whole person again. Lovino kissed his neck. "What kind of a douche would j-just leave a cute fucker like me, huh?"

"I didn't even know. You were angry at me and I stopped wanting to be. So Spain came out." He figured it would just be easier to talk as Antonio, because while he could remember things from both personalities, he felt more like Antonio… though he still felt as though he was Spain, if only just partly.

"What do you mean? I was the happiest I've ever fucking been." Remembering then that this was presumably some weird Spaintonio hybrid he frowned up into the slightly befuddled green eyes. Lovino glared. "And then you... er... Spain _exclusively_ decided to be a douche and told me you... uh, Antonio didn't love me. And _then_ he said that _he_ loved me... or as much as he could without saying the actual fucking _words _and... and...stop smiling like that when I'm scolding both of you, dammit!"

Antonio couldn't help it. The Spain side of him hadn't ever seen Lovino like this, and the Antonio side of him had just missed him so much. "Spain didn't mean it though. He was worried about disappearing. Kind of ironic isn't it? But he's not really gone, I guess." He kissed Lovino chastely and pulled back with a smile. "But I'm hungry; we should eat breakfast." Considering that the night before Spain had hardly eaten anything because he had been so worried about the Italian.

Lovino's lower lip poked itself out. "I don't want to," he said petulantly, propping himself over the Spaniard. "You can just lie here and starve for all I care. I don't want to move. I want you to feel some fucking guilt and remorse." He gave Antonio the evilest eye he had. "... Are you feeling the guilt and remorse?"

"It's strange actually… I think the Antonio side of me is feeling guilty for what the Spain side did. But I wasn't kidding about the food." Antonio stood up, and then picked up Lovino and threw him over his shoulder. "I don't wanna eat alone."

Spluttering, Lovino flailed and squawked. "H-hey, dammit, let me down! What the hell do you think you're doing?" He felt himself being carried to the kitchen and yelped when he felt a smack against his rear. "Hey!"

"Be a good boy for me now, I don't want to have to punish you." Once in the kitchen, Antonio let him down on a chair at the table.

The Italian pouted and glared. "How old do you think I am?" he sulked, folding his arms over his chest. He planned to do this for a bit, but the ripe tomato in the basket was just too tempting. He grabbed it and took a bite, still glaring.

Antonio grabbed some bread and put it in the toaster. He didn't want to make an elaborate meal or anything, so toast would have to do. "Young enough to be adorable when you pout. Are you hungry?" He could tell that it was probably the Spain part of him making him not want to cook.

Lovino pouted still but took another bite of the tomato. "... maybe," he mumbled, tracing patterns on the table with his forefinger.

"Well don't expect the fancy shit, I'm just making toast. What do you want on it? We have to have jam or something, don't we?" He looked around the fridge and came out victorious with a jar of raspberry jelly.

The Italian's lips parted in surprise. He had almost forgotten that Spain was still... well. At least he was used to the brusqueness. "Don't be a douche. Be a man and make some real damn breakfast."

"If you want something else, then make it. I know you can; you're a better cook than me anyway." The toast popped up and Antonio grabbed it, slathering it with butter and then the jam. He also put a couple pieces in for Lovino, in case he still wanted them.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "What the fuck ever. That was only true when Spain was around. Antonio exclusively was phenomenal. N-not that I'm praising you or anything, it's just a fact."

Antonio looked at him, piece of toast in hand. "But I'm both. Remember? So do you want toast or not?" Eventually maybe they would get used to it, but for now it made sense that everything was still confusing and new. For both of them.

Lovino eyed it for a moment before sighing and snatching the toast away. "Fine. But we're gonna get you back into proper culinary shape. You were a lazy shit as Spain."

"Just remember that I'm not the old Antonio. In fact, you could just as easily call me Spain, but Antonio is the name on my birth certificate. And Spain would be a weird name." If it hadn't been for Lovino practically taming the personality, right now he might have been much more aggressive.

"But you still, uh... l-love me?" He eyed the other with a bit of curiosity and a bit of self-conscious apprehension, half hiding behind his toast.

He lowered the toast, face serious. "If anything, I love you more. Both personalities loved you, and now I have the reasons Antonio loved you, and the reasons that Spain loved you. Even if he never really said it."

"O-oh." He cleared his throat, cheeks glowing red. "W-well damn... that's gotta be crazy, huh? That's... yeah. I.. I mean, me too... s-so... Oh man, this toast is just the shit. I think maybe I should water the tomato plants."

Antonio gave a chuckle. After everything, Lovino still wasn't comfortable with emotional conversations. Maybe after he was finished with his toast, he would follow and join him...

* * *

><p>A week passed in the blink of an eye. Antonio had met with Ludwig for the first time since Spain had taken over, and had been provided a scant few answers, even with his many years of expertise. He was in the process of getting his job back, too, which was a relief for both of them; when the two had merged, Spain's lazy side had proved to be torture for the hardworking Antonio. Lovino was learning to accept the different parts of the new Antonio: the cursing, the momentary rudeness, the strong and sure but kind approaches. It was all very... new.<p>

He mused all of this quietly one morning while looking at Antonio's sleeping face across the bed. It would have been unnatural for him to sleep anywhere else, but they still had not... Well, who could blame them? Molding two familiarities just made everything different, and Lovino never knew what to expect. It just wasn't the time for that yet. But that didn't mean he felt uncomfortable staring openly at the dark face of his once-and-possibly-remaining lover as he dozed peacefully in the early morning light. It was something he didn't feel right doing when it was Spain. Now, though, it felt... more or less of an okay thing to do. Very quietly he moved closer, just a bit, just enough to brush his toes against Antonio's ankles under the sheets.

Not opening his eyes, Antonio threw a lazy arm around Lovino's waist and pulled him over. "Don't wanna wake up. Go back to sleep." It was Saturday, and neither of them had to wake up just yet, so he felt that logically they should just stay in bed a few more hours. It would be nice, almost like old times. Of course, in old times, they probably would have done more than sleep while in bed for hours, but it was the principlel of the thing.

Lovino felt his body warm considerably at the touch. "Lazy-ass," he mumbled without really complaining, rather enjoying the feeling of being held so snugly. He let his arms fold between their bodies and began fiddling with the top button of Antonio's shirt.

"Yup. Good thing _your _ass isn't lazy." Antonio grabbed Lovino's butt lightly, a smile on his face. Even though his eyes were still closed, it seemed like he wasn't going to get to sleep soon. "So we're visiting your brother today. He called me last night."

The Italian squirmed, turning awfully red at Antonio's forwardness. "But I don't want to," he complained quietly. "His place smells like that kraut-bastard now, I'm sure."

"I already promised. Feliciano says they have a surprise for us." He had seemed so secretive about it, which was strange for Feliciano. He was usually bursting to tell everything, but this time he wouldn't say.

"Ugh. It's probably some new pasta recipe or something." Lovino glanced up, smiling just slightly to find Antonio's eyes still comfortably closed. He was taken by the sudden desire to kiss him as he often was and tried to suppress it, failing miserably as he pressed his lips to Antonio's warm chin. Prickly stubble was growing there again, but he wouldn't harp about it just yet.

Antonio kissed him back, but pulled away very quickly thereafter. "Shit, morning breath. Need to brush teeth." Even if that would mean getting out of bed. He finally opened his eyes, and laughed at the piece of hair that was sticking straight up from Lovino's head.

"What's so funny?" Lovino pouted, nudging Antonio's thigh with his knee. He rolled over for a moment, pulling a piece of minty gum from his bedside drawer and popped it into his mouth. "There," he said smugly, rolling over and blowing a tiny blue bubble. "Now you're the only one with morning breath."

"At least I don't have bed hair." Antonio got up. "I gotta take a piss." He went to the bathroom, and a few minutes later he came back. "So get dressed, we should eat before we head out to Feli's and Ludwig's place."

Feeling obstinate, Lovino poked out his tongue, tossed his gum into the trash and burrowed under the covers. "Don't wanna."

The Spaniard took off his pajama pants and picked out something to wear. "Don't give me that. If you won't go, then I'll be forced to go by myself, and I know how much you wouldn't want that." Once he was dressed, he pulled the covers off Lovino.

The mostly naked Italian whined, curling up into a ball. "But... but... but I don't like that potato-sucker, and neither did Spain," he groaned.

"We won't go to see him, we'll go to see Feliciano. Maybe Ludwig won't even be there." It was true, Antonio didn't particularly care for the German, but he got along alright with Lovino's brother.

Lovino grumbled and sat, crossing his legs and glaring at Antonio. "... Fine. But I'm not going to enjoy a single minute of this." He crawled out of bed and skulked to the closet.

Antonio laughed a bit and opened the door. "I'm having cereal for breakfast. Do you want some?" No matter how much Lovino complained, he still didn't like cooking anymore. He probably could if he really wanted to, but not as much as half a year ago.

"No I don't want any damn cereal. Son of a bitch, I want some _real_ food," he complained from inside the closet, only half joking. He missed the Antonio that loved cooking with him. But it wasn't something to dwell on. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a thin, white cotton shirt under a light sweater, Lovino joined Antonio in the kitchen. If the idiot wanted cereal, he could have his cereal; Lovino was going to eat something scrumptious. He made preparations for eggs Benedict, and within no time had a simmering pot of creamy, rich hollandaise and an english muffin toasting in the oven.

The Spaniard leaned against the counter. "That smells great. I haven't had homemade hollandaise in years!" Antonio grabbed Lovino around the waist, dropping kisses to his neck.

The Italian shivered and tried to focus on the delicately maintained egg. "W-well it wouldn't have taken so long if you hadn't stopped cooking."

"I still cook. I made Spaghetti last week. Well, you made the sauce but I made the noodles pretty good." Antonio took a spoon and dipped it in the sauce against Lovino's protests. "Why don't you make more? One each isn't that much."

"Hmph. They're _both_ for me," Lovino lied, wriggling when Antonio's long fingers crept under his shirt and pressed flat against his stomach. "You seemed to be enjoying your _cereal."_

Antonio chuckled and sucked on a spot on Lovino's neck. He remembered a time when he wouldn't have left a mark, but now he wanted everyone to see, to know that they couldn't touch him, that he belonged to someone else.

Lovino felt his knees go weak and had to hold on to the stove for support. His mouth went dry and his words came out jumbled and outrageously flustered. "S-stop, I have to take care of the... the food..."

"Your hands are still free. I don't see what's stopping you from cooking." Antonio smoothed his hands down Lovino's side, gripping his butt. "Just ignore me and concentrate on the food."

"Like I could," Lovino pouted, scooting closer to the oven. Antoino's wandering hands were just too delightful. They did nothing but tear down his good judgment.

He smirked against Lovino's neck. "Fine then, I'll stop." Antonio pulled away completely, chuckling as the Italian's body moved back to find his heat again. "Now you can think only about cooking, aren't you happy?"

Sticking his nose in the air with a huff, Lovino decided he just simply wouldn't let Antonio win. "Yes, now that your grody-ass hands are back where they belong."

"Well hurry up, I'm hungry." Antonio sat at the table, feet on the opposite chair. "You always look so cute when you're cooking, you know that? Cuter than normal, anyway."

The Italian glared over his shoulder. "Shut up. You lost the right to say anything when you stopped cooking. A-and I already told you that this isn't for you!"

"When I first moved in here I was always cooking, so what's the problem?" He still knew that he was going to get one of them. Lovino always said he was only making food for himself, but he always ended up feeding Antonio anyway.

Lovino paused and turned back around, stirring the hollandaise absently. "I just liked it when... we used to do it together," he mumbled.

Antonio looked over at him with a smile. "Yeah? When you were teaching me to cook Italian food? Well, maybe I could help you cook dinner tonight. If we don't stay over at your brother's, because he said he was making pasta. Of course."

Feeling a little inferior, Lovino frowned into the pan. "We might as well stay, then. Feli makes kickass food, regardless of what it is. He's practically a pasta god."

"Yes he is. That doesn't mean that he's better than you." Antonio got up and went to stand beside his boyfriend, trying to dispel any bad thoughts he was having. "You're perfect just the way you are." He kissed Lovino on the cheek and twirled his finger in the curl that always seemed to stick out.

Yelping, Lovino's brain went to mush and he shuddered, heat coursing through his body. "St-aaaah~" he whimpered, his head lolling back onto Antonio's shoulder.

He was surprised by the strong reaction, but Antonio played along and pulled Lovino's lips to his, kissing him deeply. He also tugged on the hair, but let go when the Italian gave a loud whimper, thinking he was hurting him.

Lovino shook his head, breaking apart from Antonio with a gasp. His eyes were clouded over with heat and his cheeks burned. "W-why'd you stop?"

"What, pulling your hair? I thought it was hurting...?" Then a smirk appeared on his face. "... Unless you liked it. Do you like hair pulling?" He grabbed the strand again, twisting it and pulling at the same time.

Lovino's hips lurched on reflex and he moaned without restraint, gasping when his excitable cock bumped against the oven. Every little twist and stroke made him move, shamelessly rutting against the cool surface.

Antonio reached down and cupped his lover's bulge through his pants. "Look how hard you are for me. Aren't you a little slut? But you can't come. Wouldn't want to get the food dirty." He watched the blush on Lovino's face expand, down his neck and under his shirt.

Fighting to articulate his jumbled thoughts, Lovino turned his head, nipping at Antonio's jaw to show that he wasn't going down without (at least a little bit of) a fight. "You can't tell me not to come when you're doing all this," he hissed, his spine forming a perfect arch when Antonio found the tip of his cock through his jeans.

"Of course I can. But maybe I'll be nice." Antonio pulled him from in front of the stove over to a chair. He sat down, Lovino sitting in his lap faced away from him, and pressed harder against his cock. This was the first sexual thing they had done, and it felt great. Lovino's breath hitched and his legs spread over Antonio's thighs, one hand tangling itself in the Spaniard's curls, the other landing over Antonio's big hand. "Don't tease," he whined, nuzzling the caramel skin of Antonio's jaw.

"Alright, I won't then." Antonio undid the Italian's fly, sliding a hand inside so he could rub along the length. "Do you like that? I bet you do." He tugged harshly on the piece of hair, and grinned in satisfaction as Lovino moaned louder, his head falling back against Antonio's shoulder. Lovino had missed the intimate touches more than he had realized and he decided, fuck the world, he was going to be vocal about it. His grip on Antonio's hair tightened marginally and he rolled his hips back into Antonio's lap out of spite.

"Mmnh, 'course I fuckin' like it," he breathed.

Antonio hummed, smirking. "Good." Then he clamped his hand down at the base of Lovino's cock. "If you want to come, say that I get half of the eggs benny."

"You _bitch,"_ Lovino gasped, writhing. "F-fuck you! I'll get the eggs _and_ my rocks off, you queer-ass faggot fucking- nng, right there, just mooove!"

"No, you have to say I get one. Say it and I'll let you come." Antonio sucked on his neck again, enjoying the whole time how thick and heavy Lovino's cock was in his hand. It was such a familiar, yet alien feeling.

Lovino shook his head and bit his lip. "Nnn... Antonio," he whimpered, closing his eyes. The pressure was killing him. "M-maybe I'll s-share just a little..."

He gripped harder. "You can do better than that." Antonio was rubbing his neck with his free hand, since tugging on Lovino's hair gave him too much pleasure. After all, he was determined to get the brunet to agree.

Lovino bit his lip and focused on the feeling of Antonio's hand, firm and still on his cock. He tried to come just out of spite, and moved his hips when willing himself to come didn't work. "Fuck you," he gasped, "fine! You can have a damn egg!"

Immediately, Antonio released his hard grip and began moving his hand up and down. Lovino was moaning loader, his legs flexing. Then, he once again pulled on the hair. The Italian let out a strangled cry, back arching as he climaxed.

Antonio took his sticky hand out of Lovino's pants and kissed him on the cheek since he couldn't reach his mouth. "I love you."

Lovino whimpered, leaning back against Antonio in exhaustion. His hand slipped out of the Spaniard's hair and slid down his neck. "I love you too, you fucking bastard," he breathed, closing his eyes. His heart pounded wildly inside his chest. Lovino turned his head into Antonio's shoulder and murmured against his skin, "So can we stay home? Since you love me and all."

"I do love you. Which is why we're going to see your brother." Antonio lifted Lovino up and placed him on the chair. "But I'll put the eggs together, since everything is made up. You just sit and relax." He looked around, found a tissue box and threw it to his boyfriend after taking some for himself. "Clean up. You don't wanna go outside with come on your pants."

Lovino huffed and pouted and cleaned himself, watching Antonio's expert hands slide the egg and the ham onto the english muffin and drizzle the hollandaise on top. It was just how he remembered, though Antonio now stood a little straighter, a wilder look in his stunning green eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled when Antonio handed him a plate. "... for nothing. Dick." He took a bite, congratulating himself for a job well done (though it was a little on the toasty side from the lack of attention near the end). "I'm not going to enjoy this."

Antonio dug into his food, giving a small moan at the taste. "Yes you will. You just like complaining." From having Spain in him, he knew very well what it was like to hate and love a person close to you. It was obvious that Lovino did care a lot about his brother, even if he yelled and pouted most of the time.

"Your point being?" Lovino mumbled around his fork, rolling his eyes. "And I won't. Unless something's in it for me. And it'd better fucking be." He swallowed after a moment and glanced at Antonio in a bit of puzzled curiosity. A light pink warmed his cheeks. "Wait... don't you need to... you know...?"

He shrugged. "It's not like I'm a teenager. Just because I get hard doesn't mean I have to jerk off." Antonio was eating the egg Benedict so fast that he was already almost finished. It was just so good.

Lovino felt a bit abashed. "Well, no, but... damn, that takes a lot of willpower." Not that he hadn't had his own share of problems he blatantly ignored when Antonio had disappeared.

"A little. Just because of the Spain side of me though. I'll be fine." Once he was done eating, Antonio took his plate to the sink. "Finish already! I want to get going! What do you think the surprise is? Do you think they're getting married? Is gay marriage legal in this state?"

"Not yet- oh dear fuck, I hope not." He made a face, taking the last bite of his breakfast and meandering over to the sink to toss it in. "Yuck. I can even imagine that faggy-ass brother of mine wearing a dress or some weird shit."

Antonio laughed, leaning against the counter. "If we got married, would you wear a dress for me? Be my bride?" He could just see it. Lovino would be so cute in a dress! Of course it could never happen, but there was always photoshop...

"No!" Lovino instantly refused, turning beet red. "I may be queer, but I'm not a fuckin' _queen," _he said, tossing Antonio a reproachful look. Not that he minded the idea of being married to Antonio. No, that was actually quite a welcome thought. Antonio would want to be his husband? His blush crawled down the back of his neck and he quickly washed his hands, ignoring it fervently.

"Alright, no dress then." The Spaniard laughed and grabbed Lovino's hand. "But come on, we're going now, and you can't get out of it." He would be driving, since Lovino gave him back his keys the day after Spain and Antonio had merged.

Lovino looked down at his hand, dripping with clean water and curled in Antonio's, and then up into the Spaniard's eyes. An idea popped into his head. "... Fine, you sadistic motherfucker. And I'll tell you what." He shuffled a bit closer. "If you make dinner with me tonight, I promise to not even complain that much."

He looked down at him, seeing the determination. "Alright, I'll help you. But you'd better be nice. Even to Ludwig."

Lovino winced. "Damn, that's cruel. Fine. But can we make it 'civil' instead of 'nice'? I don't know if I can do nice."

"Fine, civil. But you have to ask him how his day has been." It had been a very strange phone call to his old psychiatrist, telling him what happened. Antonio felt that Ludwig still didn't completely believe him, and every once in a while would try and test him.

The Italian felt something akin to physical pain at that. "Mrgh... you'd better be ready to make dinner with me for the next damn week if you keep up these unreasonable demands."

"They aren't unreasonable. And that was the last one. Let's go."


	17. Chapter 17

I can't tell you how surprised I was when a couple of you actually predicted the surprise correctly. You're amazing! And then there are those of you who thought the last chapter was the end! Silly gillies. This isn't over. And also, just because we get reviews all the time about a sequel/companion fic for the USUKUS, yes, there's going to be one. But Tyger and I have a PruCan mpreg to finish and a SuFin to start before we even begin to start planning that. But in our lineup, the multiple personality USUKUS is definitely third place. Judging by our rate of completion, I'm going to predict that it will be started and out sometime at the beginning of 2012.

* * *

><p>Antonio grabbed his keys and a jacket and pulled Lovino outside. It was such a good feeling to drive again now that he had the control of Spain and almost no road rage. Well, as long as the other drivers weren't complete assholes. Lovino slid into the car once they made it into the garage and huffed again, though he did zip his lips so as to keep up his side of the bargain. He had no intention of losing the opportunity to cook with Antonio.<p>

Though because he had promised not to complain, the drive was fairly quiet. Lovino spent most of it just gazing out the window in thought. He was with Antonio again. Antonio was back. Well... mostly. He said he loved Lovino, and Lovino believed it. He glanced over and silently found Antonio's hand on the console, slipping his fingers through the spaces between the longer, darker ones.

Hand in hand they drove the ten minutes to Feliciano's house. Upon arrival, Lovino released him and got out, scowling sourly at the sleek black Volkswagen next to them. Antonio smiled in good humor. "Well, it looks like Ludwig is here. Guess you're not getting out of the deal that easily."

Lovino smothered a curse just as Feliciano burst out of the front door and ran down the pebbled path. "Lovi!" he cried, throwing his arms about his brother happily. "You never call, you naughty thing! Ve, I've missed you!"

"Damn, Feli, we're barely out of the car," Lovino said with a tiny smile, patting Feliciano on the back. The younger twin didn't slacken his grip and just glanced over at Antonio a little warily.

"And, ah, good morning... Antonio."

They had had a nice conversation on the phone, but Antonio could tell that Feli was still a little weary of him. He smiled and nodded. "How are you?"

Before the Italian could answer, Ludwig poked his head out of the house and called them in, and once they had made their way closer discreetly placed himself between his lover and Antonio. "Good morning. I hope everything is well?" His critical eye looked the Spaniard up and down, noticing his posture and facial expression for any signs of what had happened psychologically to inspire such a change.

"Just peachy," Lovino said to take the piercing attention from Antonio. Admittedly, for a time he had become a real prick as Spain, but he deserved a little more credit than they seemed ready to give. "Can we go inside, or are we gonna do this surprise thing out here?"

"Oh!" Feliciano jumped back and clapped, a bright smile on his face once more. "Come inside! We have to show you!" He pulled Lovino along by the hands, the elder brother doing his very best not to grumble and complain the entire way. "Come ooon!"

They followed behind, and Antonio elbowed Lovino. "Don't forget your part of the deal." He gestured toward Ludwig. He honestly didn't really care if Lovino was nice to him, he just wanted to see the brunet ask him while trying to be nice.

Lovino threw him a dirty look and slowly he turned to Ludwig, a grimace on his face. "Hey, bastard." The German glanced at him. Lovino looked fairly pained. "How... how's your day been?"

Ludwig was fairly surprised, after all Lovino had never asked him something like that before. "... It was normal. Nothing particularly good or bad about it." He held the door for them and lead them to the living room, since Feliciano was already in there.

Immediately a little fuzzy creature slipped through the open door and wove her way around Lovino's legs, mewling and purring on to Antonio's. "Good morning, _bella,"_ Lovino said and scooped Cannoli up into his arms.

Antonio gave her head a pat, but they both stopped when they heard mewing and she squirmed out of Lovino's grasp. That certainly didn't sound like Wilhem... and he was just sitting on the couch. They walked forward and saw a nest of pillows with no less than five small kittens crawling around inside.

Lovino wished it weren't so, but it was inevitable; he felt his heart begin to melt. "Cannoli, you little slut."

She made a proud noise and circled the soft fortress. The little bundles of fur pawed at the pillows for their mother, meowing for attention.

"Tada! Surprise!" Feliciano said with a smile.

Antonio rushed forward, and gave a little laugh as Wilhem jumped up, seeming to err on the defensive side for his new family. "They are so cute!" Most of them were light and dark brown, like Cannoli, but there was one kitten that was completely black, save for a white patch around its eye. "Lovino, come here and look at them! How old are they? Can we hold them?"

"About six weeks," Feliciano chirped, his grin reaching ear to ear. "Yes, yes, please hold them! This one loves to be held! It's ironic, though, because she looks so much like Wilhelm," he giggled, lifting the black one and holding her out to Antonio. When the Spaniard took her, she sniffed at his hands before licking his thumb with her tiny red tongue.

He held the kitten to his chest, and she started purring loudly. "They are so perfect! Good job Cannoli, you little girl."

Ludwig was standing by the couch, idly petting Wilhem. "We didn't tell you sooner, because you two were having... problems. But it would seem that everything is better now. Although I would still like to have a follow up session with you, Antonio, if you wouldn't mind."

Lovino ignored the psychological chatter building up behind him and knelt down in front of the pillow fortress. A rather stern-looking kitten stood apart from the others and made noises at Feliciano, concerned only with his attention. It was pale with a few darker spots and a firm expression on its little face. He reached out to it. "Hey, this one's pretty cute- ow!"

They all looked down, and when Ludwig saw which kitten it was, he cleared his throat. "Ah yes, that one doesn't like being picked up. He scratches a lot." Pretty much the only things he didn't scratch were his fellow litter-mates and Cannoli.

Antonio laughed as Lovino stuck his finger in his mouth. "Oh, don't be like that, I'm sure he's just scared! See, if you come in slowly, with your hands open... look, he's not attacking me." He wrapped his hand around the kitten's belly to pick him up, and got a nail in the finger for his efforts.

Feliciano giggled a little awkwardly. "Mmm, we thought he was a little like Lovi, didn't we?" he said to Ludwig, his eyes on the Spaniard trying to keep the violent kitten in his hands. "We thought you might like him, Antonio."

"I do— he just wants to be loved, I'm sure!" Antonio thought the kitten was going to bite his finger, but he only nibbled on it sweetly. "Are you going to keep all of them? If you want to sell them, we could take this one! Couldn't we?" He looked over to Lovino, even though he knew that it didn't really matter what he said.

Lovino scowled at him. "That tiny fucker scratched me! Just because every creature on God's green earth adores you doesn't mean we have to take them in, dammit."

Feliciano pulled Cannoli into his lap and cuddled her. "Aww, but Lovi, we'd have to sell him, and I think he really likes Antonio."

"Yeah look at his cute little face! How could you say no to him? Ow! And we can always get him de-clawed..." Antonio sucked on his hand so he wouldn't get a drop of blood anywhere. The kitten was still in his arms though, and seemed content to stay there.

Lovino huffed, knowing it was probably a losing battle he was fighting. "Fine, dammit. But _you_ get to deal with his emotional stress when I get him neutered. Heh."

The black kitten sneezed, and Ludwig picked her up. "Perhaps you would like two? We would like to make sure they go to a good home. I would offer one to my brother... but, well..." He didn't like talking of Gilbert's condition, because people usually got the wrong idea, but of course these two wouldn't find it strange.

Lovino frowned at the kitten. "She looks like she'd be a stick in the mud at parties... hey!" He frowned deeply when the black kitten nudged him with her tiny wet nose and mewled. "... Dammit, you manipulative skank."

Antonio put the angry kitten down, and slid closer to Lovino. "You know, Ludwig is right. If we only took this one, he would get lonely! We should take two. It would just be unfair to only have one. So pick out another one! What about the black one?"

But Ludwig could see Feliciano pout. It had been obvious since they had first opened their eyes that he had wanted to keep the black one, he had even named her Amaretto. "Sorry, not this one. I think we will be keeping her."

Lovino happily deposited her into Feliciano's lap and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not gonna take care of two bratty kittens. No fucking way."

Feliciano exchanged a glance with Ludwig. "Well, what about an adult, then?"

"What."

"Mmm." Feliciano smiled brightly. "There's a tom who comes by our house all the time! We have a bowl for him on the front porch. Ve, he's very friendly."

The Spaniard practically jumped in happiness. "If he doesn't have a home then we have to take him! What if he gets run over by a car? Alright, let's go look for him then. Maybe an older cat will calm Tomate down."

"To... what. You're giving that little devil a sweet name like Tomate? I object!"

Feliciano, however, was pleased as punch. "Yay! Oh good. I wanted to bring him inside, but Ludwig's dogs always scare him away, poor thing. He's not used to them like these guys."

"Maybe if we put some milk out he'll come, and we can get him." Antonio turned to Lovino, grinning. "I think Tomate is the perfect name. Because he acts so much like you and you love tomatoes, but Tomate sounds better than Tomato."

"Y... you only say that because you're Spanish," Lovino mumbled, rubbing the back of his red neck. Nevertheless, he did not argue when Feliciano took Antonio to the kitchen to get some milk, chattering the whole way. Cannoli made a noise and lept from the couch, pawing at his leg. "I don't have a treat for you," he said tersely, lifting her from the ground.

Fifteen minutes later, Antonio and Feliciano were back inside, Antonio carrying a large tomcat. "It's alright, the dogs are away right now. You're so pretty, yes you are. Lovi! Come see him! Once we get him cleaned up a bit, he'll be so beautiful!"

Lovino blinked. "That fucker's... hmm." He had no real arguments to speak of. The tom was average, if slightly large, in size, with pale stripes and big, curious green eyes that locked onto Lovino like a hawk.

"He's perfect! Of course, Tomate is cuter, but aren't all kittens? But we should get going, I think he smells the dogs. At least he doesn't scratch." Antonio handed the tomcat over to Lovino, since he would be driving, and probably have to carry Tomate as well. He turned to Feliciano. "So, should we take him with us now, or do you have to keep him with Cannoli for a bit longer?"

"Are you sure this thing is a rogue?" Lovino complained as Feliciano gave them the go-ahead to keep the kitten. The large cat seemed content to drape over Lovino, his bright eyes darting about.

Feliciano and Ludwig walked them to the door and the brothers kissed goodbye. Ludwig shook Antonio's hand and reminded him to schedule an appointment soon. In the car, Lovino tried to hold both of the felines, but the kitten wormed and wriggled from his lap and scrambled over the console to Antonio's.

Even though he was driving, Antonio pet the little guy. "So what are we going to name him?" He gestured to the tom, who was laid full out on Lovino's lap, one foot on his stomach.

Unwittingly, Lovino's hands began to stroke along the cat's spine. "Well, he is a fatass... why don't we just call him Lard?"

"That's mean! I think his name should be something that fits with Tomate." He figured that Feliciano must not have been the only person feeding him, since the cat was so big. But he did have a lot of fur, so maybe he wasn't as big as he looked.

Lovino stroked his head throughtfully. "Fits with Tomate... well, oregano seasons tomato dishes perfectly..."

"True... Alright, Oregano it is! Oregano and Tomate, that works well. Don't you think?" He asked the kitten in his lap. In response, he scratched him again. They would really need to get that little guy de-clawed.

* * *

><p>"Dammit, Antonio, this cat is possessed!" Lovino tried to intervene, but Antonio kept him back with his elbow. "Don't dick around; he's going to hurt you!" Water flew every which way as Oregano writhed around in the bathtub, yelping and meowing in a state of frenzied panic. Antonio held him down, but Oregano wasn't having it, and it was only a matter of time before the normally docile creature would make ribbons out of the Spaniard's arm.<p>

"It's not his -ow!- fault! This is a cat's normal reaction to -fuck!- water! Quick, get the shower head!" he yelled over the splashing. Oregano gave a loud hiss and once again tried to get out of the water by sinking his claws deep in Antonio's arm.

Lovino went to grab it and stumbled as a small bundle of fuzz darted about under his feet. He fell against the wall of the shower and cursed. "Ugh, fuckin' brat." He bent over and scooped Tomate up, much to the kitten's distress, and tossed him into the shallow bathwater. "That's right," he smirked, grabbing the detachable shower nozzle, "two birds with one stone, motherfucker."

Tomate jumped almost a foot in the air, and then huddled up next to Oregano, shivering. "Aww... you poor thing, was Lovino mean to you? Tomate wasn't even dirty!"

"Might as well start them both off on the same motherfuckin' pathetic page," Lovino cackled, spraying the two. It wasn't getting the desired reaction from Oregano, though; the tom seemed to be regarded Tomate with a wet curiosity. "... and here I thought they'd fight to the death."

"I think they love each other. Or at least Oregano feels protective of Tomate. Alright, they're soaked enough." Antonio grabbed a towel and picked up the large tom, handing him off to Lovino, and grabbed the kitten for himself.

Oregano looked right into Lovino's eye before shaking himself, the water flying from his head and onto his body. Not that it mattered much; from the sudden wet cat deposit in his arms, his shirt and the towel had been soaked through all down the front. "Dammit, Antonio!" he cursed, plopping down on the bathroom counter to hold the cat in his damp lap and rub it dry.

But Antonio was too busy trying to get Tomate's claws out of his shirt... and chest. "Come on let go-_ow!_" Once the claws were freed, he covered the kitten completely with the towel so he wouldn't be able to get him anymore. "Tomorrow, we are calling the vet and getting him de-clawed."

"Hear hear," Lovino said, gently rubbing Oregano's head. The tips of his long white whiskers quivered and dripped, but in his chest a rumbling purr sounded. Lovino smiled. "This furry bastard's alright."

"As long as we never have to give him a bath again. Alright, I'm letting Tomate down, so watch out in case he's angry." Antonio put the towel bundle on the floor and quickly jumped up on the counter with Lovino.

Lovino chuckled. "What, afraid of that little shit?" He leaned over, though, and lifted Antonio's shirt. "Hmm. He got you pretty good. It's all red in here."

He chuckled, watching the bundle on the floor jerk around until Tomate got his head out. "They're just love marks. Kind of like the one on your neck. I'm surprised your brother didn't say anything about it."

Lovino's hand immediately flew to his neck and he turned a brilliant red. "H-he probably wasn't looking. Not everyone's a creeper like you. Isn't that right, Oregano?" The Italian scratched under the tom's damp white chin. "That's some violent love... heh, look at him, the little fucker wants up."

Tomate had started mewing from the floor, looking like a drowned rat. Antonio got a dry towel, and picked him up with that, to save what was left of his arms. "There you go, is that better? If you scratch me again I'm locking you in the laundry room for an hour."

Tomate growled in response and batted at his hands, his tiny baby claws only pinpricks. He padded against Antonio's hand without clawing, the nature of it more playful than scathing. He mewled and Oregano lifted his head curiously. "Hey, calm down," Lovino warned the tom. "He's a minor. Wait 'til he's grown a bit before making any hasty decisions."

"He just wants to protect him. And who wouldn't want to protect this cute little guy? Of course they don't know that he does fine on his own. Tomate could probably make a coyote think twice." Antonio scratched under his chin, and the kitten started purring.

"Hear that?" Lovino addressed the kitten. "He's suggesting that you're dumb shit enough to try to take on a coyote. How's that for love." Oregano's tail twitched about in the air and he moved so that his furry face was tucked into the crook of Lovino's arm, and the Italian could not help the fond smile curving his lips. "What a sweet cat. Reminds me of..." He cleared his throat, cheeks pink, and avoided Antonio's eyes expertly.

Antonio laughed and jumped down off the counter. "Well, I did promise to help you with dinner, so should we get started? The cats haven't even had a chance to explore the house yet." He put Tomate down, and he started winding himself around his legs.

"Mm," Lovino agreed, nudging Oregano out of his lap and hopping off the counter. He grimaced at the uncomfortable blast of the AC against his body heat-warmed, soaked shirt. "Ugh. We should probably change first."

Looking down at himself, Antonio agreed. They both went to the bedroom and stripped out of their wet clothes. The Spaniard looked at his many scratches and sighed. "Damn cats. Why do they have to be born with claws?"

Lovino smirked and peeled off his partially wet pants as well. "What, don't their sweet, angelic faces make up for the vicious kitten claws?" he chuckled, surveying the damage.

"Yes, but it would still be better if they couldn't injure you. Oh well, Tomate is worth it." Antonio picked out a different pair of pants, and decided to just go shirtless. Might as well; if the cat was going to try and scratch him again there was no point ruining another shirt.

The Italian slipped on a pair of jeans and a thin white shirt, one eyebrow cocked when Antonio left the room bare from the waist up. "Oi, aren't you gonna, you know... get dressed?"

Antonio shrugged. "Why? It's just us and the cats." Then he left the room and went down to the kitchen. When he looked behind him, Tomate was right on his heel. The Spaniard gently picked him up. "See? You're not mean, once you get to know someone. I bet you're just scared."

The kitten almost seemed to frown and batted at Antonio's wrists, but did not claw or growl. It was a welcome relief from all of the clawing earlier. Lovino followed shortly after, nearly tripping over Oregano as the cat darted out to weave between his legs. "Dammit, Anto- Oregano!" he cursed, nudging the affectionate tom out of the way with his foot. "If you're always gonna be underfoot, I'll just kick you out!"

"You almost called him Antonio! That's so cute." Antonio put the kitten down, and he padded over to the large tomcat. "Alright, what are we making? Something easy I hope."

Lovino rolled his eyes and brushed past, taking a worn cookbook from the top shelf. "We'll see. I know half of you is bored to tears by this shit, but the other half always loved to cook with me. You might enjoy yourself once you get into it. Fuck, this looks good..."

Antonio sat down and waited for his boyfriend to pick something out. "You're ass looks great in those jeans," he commented, a lazy smile on his face.

Lovino started at that, freezing mid page-turn. "My ass _always_ looks great," he countered, without any clue of another appropriate retort. He tried to focus on the recipes that he scrolled over with his eyes, but it was rather difficult with the intent stare he felt boring into him from behind.

"Yes. But in those jeans your ass looks amazing. It makes me want to squeeze it." Antonio laughed as Tomate started trying to get Oregano to play with him by swatting him on the nose without claws. They were so perfect together. Lovino blushed brilliantly at the remark on his posterior, ducking his head to keep Antonio from seeing. Though he had to wonder why Antonio didn't follow through on the thought; Lovino was _clearly_ willing to whore himself out for the stupid Spaniard. "H-how about pasta?" he suggested quickly.

"Alright. I'll make the noodles." That was easy enough, at least. Antonio got up and grabbed a pot, squeezing Lovino's butt as he went past.

"Hey!" Lovino cried, blinking wildly at him. "Y-you can't just... just go grabbing ass and taking the easiest parts willy-nilly, dammit!"

He laughed and started filling the pot with water. "What are you going to do about it? Besides, I think you rather liked the ass grabbing." Once the pot was full, he put it on the stove. Nothing to do but wait for it to start boiling.

"Be that as it may, you're totally bypassing the fact that you're a lazy-ass," Lovino huffed, taking down the ingredients from the shelves. "Get the milk for me, would you?"

Antonio grabbed the carton from the fridge and passed it to him. "I'm not a lazy ass, I just don't do as much as Antonio used to do, acting like some 50s house wife. Remember, I'm not the same anymore."

Lovino took the milk and rolled his eyes. "Antonio wasn't... well, maybe just a little, but as far as I know he was... you were... fuck it, Antonio was always like that, even before you came to live with me."

"Yes, always wanting to do everything for everyone. And I am part him, but part Spain as well, and technically it's your fault." Antonio grinned and elbowed Lovino lightly. "If it wasn't for you, they would still be two completely different personalities."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Kinda like the ass-grabbing." He reached past Antonio for the salt, nudging him back in the process.

The rest of the preparation went almost as well as Lovino had hoped. Antonio was willing to both assist him in gathering and chopping ingredients and took to grabbing his ass on more than one occasion. Steamy pasta and the promise of a good movie brought them to the living room, warm plates on their laps. A comfortable silence settled over them as they watched the movie, pasta devoured in less than ten minutes. When the plates were discarded onto the coffee table and Antonio's hand found Lovino's, the Italian settled back against him. "Thanks," he muttered, his cheek against Antonio's shoulder.

Antonio squeezed his hand, and then jumped when Tomate clawed his foot. "Goddammit, Mr. Jealous!" He picked the kitten up, because he was too small to jump on the couch, and laughed when Oregano lazy climbed over Lovino and stretched out over him. "I think you have a friend. He seems to really like your lap."

"Of course he does," Lovino said sarcastically, scratching the soft white fur under Oregano's chin. "I've got a fine-ass lap." He reached over, lightly bopping Tomate on the head when he tried to scratch Lovino's hand. "Take that, tiny fucker."

"Well, at least he isn't as bad as this morning. I think he's gotten used to us." Antonio shooed Tomate away so he could move closer to Lovino, and moved a hand to his thigh.

Oregano seemed to take interest in the motion and pawed at Antonio's hand, making a noise when he was pushed away. Lovino, for his part, was rather pleased and startled. "H-hey, that's reserved for Oregano..."

"No, I'm pretty sure I was here first." The Spaniard grinned and winked one green eye. The show they were watching was on commercial, so Antonio stole a kiss. "And there is no way Oregano is getting this place."

"We'll see," Lovino mumbled against his lips, lifting a hand from the tom's head to the back of Antonio's neck, allowing his eyes to fall closed. He yielded to the kiss, taking deep pleasure in the thorough search Antonio began to conduct in his mouth.

The show came back on, but neither of them seemed to notice. Tomate started crying on the floor, so Oregano jumped off and padded over to him. Then the large tom licked him on his back, cleaning his fur. Antonio laughed, looking at them. "You don't think we influenced them to be gay, do you?"

"Mm," Lovino confirmed, kissing and nipping at the sensitive spot below his ear, his hands finding their way around Antonio's lean, muscled chest. "Probably your faggy pheromones. Damn queer."

"Yeah, well you're the one who paints," he laughed, and ran his fingers through Lovino's auburn hair. "And now I can actually do some handy work. I won't injure myself putting up a picture." Antonio chuckled, and looked over to where said picture was now hanging.

"So manly," Lovino said, somehow managing to utter a truth while sounding completely sarcastic. He sat up and swung a leg over Antonio's thighs, straddling himself in the Spaniard's lap. "And I know all about your_ handiwork,_ thanks to this morning's little accident," he said, pulling Antonio in for another kiss, and then another, fingers trailing along the hard curve of his shoulders, the thick warmth of his arms.

Antonio let out a low growl, thrusting his hips up, grounding their crotches together. "Oh trust me, this morning was no accident."

Lovino shivered and groaned, one hand wriggling its way into Antonio's pants. "Kinda fuckin' seemed that way, seeing as only one of us got off."

"True, but maybe now we can fix that?" Antonio lifted an eyebrow and pulled Lovino down for another kiss, but quickly stopped and went to bite his neck, on the spot he had made this morning. After all, the darker the spot, the more people would be kept away.

Lovino winced, the spot tender, but Antonio seemed to know exactly how to fix that with his tongue. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks and, as hard as he was becoming, the solid bulge against his ass was even more prevalent. Damn Antonio for making him such a caring bastard. He made a noise of agreement and regrettably pushed Antonio back, nipping his dark, thoroughly kissed lips before sliding down slowly, rubbing circles over the thick girth pressing tight against Antonio's constricting pants with his thumb as he went.

Antonio gave a moan at the touch, thrusting up again. "God it feels so good." Antonio reached down and unzipped his jeans so he could rearrange, because it was getting uncomfortable with how hard he was.

Lovino made a noise down deep in his throat. He remembered that cock, long and thick and dark. He landed with his knees on the floor, tracing a familiar vein with his finger and then his tongue.

Antonio gasped loudly. He hadn't been expecting that! Lovino had always complained about giving head, and now he was going to do it voluntarily? Not that he was complaining, of course. Definitely not complaining.

The Italian pulled back for a moment, glancing up at Spain with dark eyes, molten gold and mischievous. His wrist moved elegantly as he fisted Antonio's beautiful cock. "That wasn't a noise of complaint, was it?"

"Definitely not. Fuck Lovi, don't stop." He wound his hand in Lovino's hair, pulling it just like this morning, and then pushing him down again.

Lovino wrinkled his nose as he tried to decide how to go about it, and decided that tried and true was always best; he held Antonio's cock in his fist and laved the dark tip with his tongue, his teeth skimming over the foreskin before taking the cock into his mouth.

The Spaniard sighed in pleasure and put his head on the arm rest. "Yeah, suck that like a good boy. Do you like that in your mouth?" But his actions contradicted his words as he gently ran his fingers through Lovino's hair, making sure that he didn't thrust up into his mouth.

Lovino closed his eyes and groaned around the cockhead, relishing in the deep moan that came from above the minute it was felt. He continued on like that, paying extra attention to the sensitive tip and reached down in the process, fumbling to free his own cock from the confines of his trousers.

Looking down, Antonio could just see the movement of his boyfriend's arm, but it was obvious what he was doing. "Mm, hey get up. We might as well both get off. Besides, I really liked a 69 position last time I tried it."

Lovino pulled back with an audible, scandalous _pop_ and looked up at Antonio, bewildered, flushed and frustrated. "Are you shitfuck insane? There's nowhere comfortable enough to do that here."

"Hell yeah there is." Antonio pointed to the coffee table, pushing the remotes off so it was clear. "Trust me, you'll like this. Fuck, it's amazing." And it would be nice to see Lovino's body stretching like that, all his muscles contracting in his stomach.

Lovino pursed his lips, one eyebrow quirked. "So what exactly am I- h-hey!" he squawked as Antonio rather firmly grabbed him and got him on the table, his head dangling over the end. Lovino blushed a brilliant scarlet when Antonio knelt before him, glistening cock right near his face.

He was grinning as he knelt over the table, elbows on either side of Lovino's body. "See? Like this, all the blood goes to your head and you get a rush like nothing else." Antonio pushed the Italian's pants down farther down his legs, so he could get at his cock easier.

Before his lips had even touched it, though, Lovino's hips shifted up of sheer anticipation. He flushed from his own forwardness and pretended that it hadn't happened, grabbing the cock before him and downing it halfway in one gulp. But of course Antonio had noticed. He gave an open-mouthed kiss to the side, went to the head to flick his tongue against the smooth surface. Then he massaged Lovino's balls, because he always loved that.

Lovino groaned around the thick cock, feeling only a slight amount of blood left in his lower body, all concentrated in his erection. His toes curled and he lifted his hips, dragging his teeth along the sides of the piece of work in his mouth as he pulled back.

Antonio finally wrapped his lips around the head and hollowed his cheeks, then went down farther. Then he pulled completely off. "If you're alright, hum once." Because even though he was enjoying this so much, he still wanted to make sure Lovino wasn't uncomfortable.

Lovino moaned low and deep, parting his thighs just a bit more and rocking his hips upward to say that yes, he was very much alright.

Well, that was answer enough. Antonio once again swallowed his manhood, deep-throating it. No matter how he changed, he would always enjoy this taste and feel. Lovino hummed around his own cock, sending vibrations through his whole body.

_Definitely much better than jerking off,_ Lovino decided with finality. It was a little uncomfortable in his lower back, and Antonio seemed to realize that, his arm sliding under Lovino's curved spine to prop him up. By way of a thank you, Lovino swallowed once, twice, allowing his throat to relax before taking Antonio deeper.

The Spaniard moaned again and moved his arm farther under Lovino's back. God, this was the best idea ever.

Lovino sucked for a moment before he pulled back, pleasure rushing through his lower extremities. He pumped at the saliva-slick shaft and craned his neck a fraction of an inch lower to reach Antonio's balls. He nudged the sac with his nose, shivering at the hot, heavy scent and licked them daintily.

That made Antonio's eyes roll back. But he was determined to not be outdone, so he quickly took his mouth off, slicked up two fingers with saliva, and swallowed him again. Now he circled a finger around Lovino's hole, still not going in.

At that Lovino gasped, his entire body thrumming. He was closer than he'd thought and he shook his head, his fist tight around Antonio's shaft. "Fffuck, 'Tonio!"

Antonio could tell that he was close to his orgasm, so he pushed his wet finger in, curling it to press against Lovino's prostate. His own cock was squeezed hard, and soon there was warm come exploding in his mouth.

The sudden surge through his body and the heaviness of his blood-rushed head caused Lovino to cry out, his hips jerking erratically. Antonio's name left his lips in a rush of ecstasy and he lamented only momentarily that he had come twice that day, and that the whole point of repaying Antonio for his earlier actions were backfiring. So he panted, feeling rather lax and sated, but eager to please, and he stroked Antonio's cock, nuzzling the tense sac under. "Mmmh, you like that, don't you?" he purred, appealing to the darker, more Spain-like side of him. "Your dick in my mouth. Bet you'd like to see me swallow too, huh?"

"Fuck yeah." Antonio sat up on his knees so he could watch Lovino suck him. "Come on, lick it like the little slut you are." He licked his lips, getting the last of the come off, and groaned as the Italian once again took him in his throat.

Lovino complied, swallowing him inch by inch, taking him deeper and deeper down his throat and swallowed, his throat constricting about the heavy, pulsing cock. He grabbed Antonio's balls, squeezing lightly, the other hand moving to trace what little of the semen had dribbled down his softening cock over his stomach.

Antonio didn't want to push, he really didn't, but it felt so _fucking good_ that he couldn't help grabbing Lovino's hair and pushing him further on his cock. "Fuck, Lovi!" he growled before a pulse went through his body, the pleasure peaking and exploding into Lovino's mouth.

Lovino gagged for a second and hastily swallowed what he could, pulling back for a gulp of air when he couldn't any longer. He made a noise of displeasure when a bit more dripped onto his cheek. He opened his mouth to complain, but what with the extended period of time with his head lower than the rest of his body, he realized just how dizzy he had become.

The Spaniard helped Lovino sit up, holding him for a second until he was sure he wouldn't fall over or anything. "Alright, now wasn't that the best blow job ever?" He wiped off the bit that was on the Italian's cheek, not wanting to taste his own jizz.

The Italian merely made a noise low and satisfied, his head lolling back onto Antonio's shoulder. He pressed his face into the Spaniard's neck, muttering something unintelligible and drowsy.

Antonio chuckled, wrapping his arms around his tired lover. "Sorry, didn't really catch that. Did you say that was the best orgasm you have ever had and are willing to be my sex slave to repay me?"

Slowly, lazily Lovino lifted his right hand, middle finger held high. "In your dreams, fag," he mumbled. He felt himself being pulled back, settled in Antonio's lap on the sofa. He felt a little uncomfortable with his pants still hanging halfway down his thighs and groaned, trying to sit up. "Lemme go... fuckin' pants..."

"Yeah, gotta do something about those." Antonio reached down and pulled them completely off. "There, don't you think that's better? Why put them on again when you're just going to take them off when we go to bed in a bit?"

Lovino whined for the sake of whining then and couldn't even bring himself to snap his legs closed. The blood was finally returning to the rest of his body, just making him all the drowsier. He breathed calmly against Antonio's neck. "'s go t' fuckin' bed, then."

Antonio smirked, putting his arms around Lovino and stood, throwing the Italian over his shoulder. "Alright, to bed then!" He laughed as he realized that there was at least one open window on the way. They must have made quite the sight.

The Italian made a few noises of protest, half-heartedly kicking, his arms flailing a bit. Even though he remained still when Antonio tossed him on the bed, he glared up at the Spaniard. "Dickmunch."

"You should be thanking me. You look too tired to make it up the stairs." The cats followed them in the room, Oregano leaping onto the bed and Tomate scratching the carpet lazily. Antonio nudged him with his toe. "Stop that."

Lovino pouted and grabbed the covers, rolling over with them and forming a cocoon about himself. "Mmph. Wh'ever." He wrinkled his nose when Oregano nudged Lovino's face with his fuzzy cheek, pawing at him. "Damn furry piece of shit," he mumbled, craning his head up to nuzzle the cat back.

Antonio got into bed beside him and pat the large cat on the head. "And you love him. He definitely looks better now that he's all cleaned up though. Before he smelt like fish." Now Tomate wanted up on the bed. He made a jump for it, and only missed by a bit, so he had to claw his way up the covers for the rest. Soon, the small kitten was curled up beside Oregano, purring loudly.

Lovino rolled over, grunting when Tomate protested, and buried his face into Antonio's shoulder. "Nn. Don't love him. Just don't mind his stupidity."

"But you love me?" Antonio asked, a large smile on his face.

"Sure. _Do_ mind your stupidity, though. Now shaddap and turn off the damn lamp."


	18. Chapter 18

The end!

* * *

><p>The cheerful <em>ding <em>of the elevator arriving at its destination sounded and the heavy metal doors parted to reveal a familiar, meticulous waiting room. An olive-skinned young man glanced up and grinned. "Good morning, Antonio," Feliciano hummed cheerfully, taking a bite of some delicious-looking pastry on his desk.

"It's afternoon, actually," Antonio said, checking his watch. He was going back to work slowly, only working half days, so he got off at one. Perfect time to go for his meeting with Ludwig. He had suggested they just go to his house, but Ludwig, being Ludwig, had insisted that they make it a formal meeting at his office.

Feliciano glanced at his watch-free wrist and then at the computer before him, fork in hand. "Ooh, it is! Oops!" He gave Antonio a silly grin. "Ludwig hasn't had many patients today, so I just thought it was morning. He's finishing up soon. How are you?" And, a bit more guarded, "How's Lovi?"

"I'm fine. Lovino was complaining this morning that he has a fat ass, but I don't think that's much of a problem." After all, he quite enjoyed some junk in the trunk. "Oh, and the cats are great! We made an appointment to get Tomate de-clawed next week, and Oregano is nice and clean now."

Feliciano giggled and took another bite of the cake. "Those names are sooo cute! I'm glad the little baby doesn't miss his brothers and sisters too much. But you know..." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "I think Cannoli is pregnant again. Wilhelm really doesn't hold back!"

Antonio laughed at that. "Well, I think she likes it." Just then the door to Ludwig's office opened up and a small Asian man with a long ponytail walked out, bowing to the psychiatrist as he left.

"Bye bye, Yao!" Feliciano called cheerfully. "Have a safe trip home!" Cocking his head to the side with a grin Feliciano said, "Alright, sir, Dr. Weilschmidt is ready to see you now."

He rolled his eyes and went into the room. Well, he might as well get this over with then. "Hey Ludwig, nice to see you." Antonio smiled, acting nice. He still didn't really like the doctor, thanks to the part of him that was Spain, but he could pretend that he did.

Ludwig glanced up from his desk. "Good afternoon, Antonio. I hope you've been well." He stowed a file away under the desk and stood, making his way around to sit nearer to the Spaniard. "So tell me about your newest development."

"My newest development you say?" Antonio asked, sitting down. "Well, this morning I found that I rather like Lucky Charms cereal, but I don't think you mean that. It's simple: I'm both the Spain personality and the Antonio personality combined. Like I threw them into a blender to see what would happen."

Ludwig nodded and rested his left ankle over his right knee. "Yes, that. It's a little... difficult to believe, but I get the feeling you don't like me much." He folded his hands over his stomach, and the corners of his lips quirked upward very slightly. "But even so, your behavior is polite. I believe you." The German regarded him with subtle curiosity through his reading spectacles. "Why don't you tell me about how this dual perspective has changed life for you. Are you particularly anxious about things you weren't before? Do you find some tasks difficult where they once were simple? That sort of thing."

"I don't know... I don't like cooking anymore. That's something Lovino doesn't like. And I don't like housework either, but I still do it. Unlike Spain, I can control my anger, even though I still get fairly possessive of Lovi." Antonio leaned back and looked at the clock. Only five minutes down... Did these sessions always seem to drag on forever?

Ludwig nodded and cleared his throat. "Why, then, why do you not prefer to be referred to as 'Spain'? He seems to be the more dominant part of you. I would assume he would prefer the recognition. He loathed being referred to as Antonio."

The Spaniard shrugged, knowing that the doc was trying to pick him apart. "I wouldn't say the Spain part is more dominant. And I call myself Antonio because it makes Lovino feel better. Not to mention Antonio is the name on my birth certificate, and people look at me weird when I say my name is Spain."

"Now," Ludwig said, his voice a bit softer, "I say this on behalf of Feliciano. He's been worried. You've spoken quite a bit about Lovino. How is he coping with all this?"

Antonio looked to the clock, wishing this could be over sooner. "He basically considers me as the old Antonio. Wants me to cook like him, wants me to be like him. But it's better than when he was living with Spain."

Noticing his disinterest, Ludwig could not help but smile marginally. It was interesting that the middle ground between Spain's violent distaste and the previous Antonio's draining hopelessness was apathy toward treatment. He cleared his throat to regain Antonio's attention. "As part of you is Spain, does that bother you? And does he ever treat you as Spain?"

"Sometimes he'll try and get me to do something by saying that Spain would do it. And Spain never really cared what his name was, he just hated being associated with Antonio, so me being called Antonio is fine. I only came up with the name Spain in my late teens when I figured out what was wrong with me." To keep him occupied, he tried to figure out a way that he could move some of the organized files on Ludwig's desk without being noticed.

"So how do you feel about it now? Do you still think there is something wrong with you?"

Antonio gave a quick bark of laughter at that. "Of course there are things wrong with me. Everyone has problems. Like right now, my main problem is that since the change, Lovino and I haven't had sex. I don't want to pressure him, but it's time. What do you think I should do, doc?"

Ludwig blinked and paused, his mouth hanging open just a bit. Flustered, Ludwig grabbed the bottle of water on his desk and took a quick drink. "Ah... well I... that's not really my area of expertise, Antonio. But, erm..." He shifted awkwardly. "Well... have you... spoken with him about it? It won't necessarily put pressure on him if you... approach the issue delicately."

"Delicately? Well I mean he was up for a 69, but I just don't know how to ask him if he wants to go farther." Now Antonio was just enjoying watching Ludwig be all awkward. It was pretty hilarious.

The German, too flustered to see Antonio's amusement, had developed a furrow in his brow. Antonio was his patient and borderline friend, and if he was voicing a genuine concern, it was his duty to help however possible. "Ah. Well. You may... wish to speak with him about that. He sounds... rather open to you already."

Wanting to up the ante, the brunet leaned forward, a serious look on his face. "But you know Lovino, he doesn't really like talking about his feelings. I'm not sure what I should do... I mean, how did you first tell Feliciano you wanted to fuck him?"

Ludwig leaned back, blue eyes wide. He was about to protest when he remembered that half of this man _was _'Spain'. It made sense that he would be so blunt, did it not? Though the logic did not quell the blush in his cheeks, it did help calm the nervous buzzing in his mind. "I believe our situations are very different," he answered, "and it would not be relevant to your problems."

"But they _are _brothers, right? Our situations may not be similar, but those two are. They grew up together, so maybe the same things would work?" Even though that wasn't true at all; Lovino was better in so many different ways. But this was just about getting Ludwig riled up enough so he would end this meeting early.

The blond shook his head. "But you have already... ahem... with Lovino when you were simply Antonio," Ludwig argued, taking another drink of water. "I don't think it would help. Do you have a-any other questions?"

That sounded like exactly what he wanted to hear. "No, I think we covered about everything. I should probably get going though. Thanks for the advice." _Not_.

Though there were forty-five entire minutes remaining, Ludwig realized that it could only become more uncomfortable if they continued along this path. He stood with Antonio, walking him to the door.

"Wow, that was fast. Bye-bye, Antonio. Don't be a stranger," Feliciano said cheerfully, waving when he walked by. "And tell Lovi to come visit me! I miss him!"

"Will do," Antonio replied and boarded the elevator, humming pleasantly to himself all the way down.

* * *

><p>Antonio crawled in bed wearing only boxers. Long gone were the days when he was concerned about what he wore to bed. He cuddled up to Lovino, who was reading a book. "I am never going to a therapist again for anything."<p>

Lovino rested his elbows on the arm draped over his abdomen, turning the page absently. "You mean the potato-fucker? Why?"

"Because they always try to get in my head. I've already had two people up there, I don't need anyone else." He started tugging on the book, wanting Lovino to put it down and go to sleep already. "What are you doing tomorrow? You said you wanted to start a new painting?"

Too drowsy to protest more than a grumble, Lovino let him, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp off. "Mm. Finally went shopping for new paints yesterday. If that bitch on the north side of town hadn't kept me until all hours of the evening, I could've started already. Fucking cunt didn't know whether to pick Eggshell or Dove White to match her damn sofa." He wriggled down until his head rested on the pillow, his side pressed against Antonio's stomach.

Antonio hummed in acknowledgment. "What are you painting? Hey, you could try painting the cats! I'm sure they would make a beautiful picture. Of course it might be difficult to get them to stay still, but you know what they look like anyway."

Lovino snorted. "Really? Cats, Antonio? Even if it _is _a step up from tomatoes, it's still fairly lame." He yawned and pulled the covers tightly over himself, curling into the warm body beside him.

"No, because they aren't just any old cats. They're _our _cats." Antonio scratched Oregano behind the ear affectionately and he started purring loudly. Of course, Tomate got jealous, so he scratched him.

Promptly, Lovino pushed them both over the edge of the bed, receiving a duo of protesting meows in response. "No fighting. This bedding was fucking expensive, and that little shit still isn't declawed."

Antonio rolled his eyes. "They just want to have fun. Besides, Tomate will be declawed soon. Let them play." He yawned and snuggled down into the blankets more, pulling Lovino closer to him. "Hey, you're... comfortable with me like this, right?"

Lovino's brow furrowed. He glanced up to about where he assumed Antonio's face was in the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust. "Uh... yeah. Wouldn't do this if I wasn't. Why?"

"Well, a lot has changed since we last were... together. I just wanted to know if you still would rather have the old Antonio or something." After all, that would explain why they hadn't had sex yet. He didn't think it had been this long when they had started dating in the first place!

Lovino didn't say anything for a long time, and the room silent save for the ticking of the clock and the sound of tiny paws scampering over the hardwood floor. Then, "You know, I didn't hate Spain." He paused for a minute, his finger moving along the seam of the shirt tight around Antonio's shoulder. "Well. At the beginning I did, because... because I think I l... loved Antonio pretty early on. I didn't like to see him suffer for shit Spain didn't own up to. But I didn't really hate Spain." He blinked up again, still unable to see the Spaniard's face. His voice was quiet. "But damn, I loved Antonio. He was the only person to make me feel.. you know... a-anyway, I accepted that Spain was all that was left, so why wouldn't I accept you, dumbshit?"

"Accepting is one thing. Being happy with it is something completely different." Antonio traced patterns on Lovino's arm, just to have something to do. He wanted them to be like when the old Antonio was here. But he wasn't the old Antonio. And he would never be again.

Lovino hesitantly brought his own hand closer, curling it over Antonio's until it was still. "Y'know, I was starting to be happy with Spain?" he confessed, his voice small. "The fucker was a lazy piece of shit half the time, but he... he listened, even though he argued, and he stayed, even though that took some work on my part. It was just... he liked getting reactions out of people, and the ones he did the best and most were fuckin' hurtful." He winced, his throat tightening at the memory of the morning Spain completely took over and being told that Antonio didn't love him. He moved closer, tucking his head under Antonio's chin so that he couldn't be seen. "I did miss Antonio. But... if Spain were gone, I'd miss him, too." He cleared his throat. "Fuck this complicated shit. Why'd you have to bring it up?"

Antonio smiled. "Sorry. But thank you, that means a lot to me." He just couldn't bring up a conversation about sex now that Lovino had told him all that.

Lovino harrumphed in reply and simply moved half an inch closer before settling against Antonio - the new, yet still beloved Antonio - and murmured to him many things until both fell into a gentle, lulling slumber.

* * *

><p>Breakfast was short and sweet, simply cereal and eggs, and as Antonio set about doing the dishes, Lovino went to gather his new and old paints. He spread an enormous plastic sheet over the floor and laid his easel down dead center. He worked swiftly and silently with the ease of a devoted artist, squirting a dollop of paint in a dozen tiny bowls, the colors vibrant and glorious: sunshine yellow, electric blue, scarlet. Through the door, which had been left open a crack, a small head poked in. Lovino didn't notice until little white paws padded silently on the edge of his canvas. "Stop!" Oregano paused, one of his ears twitching. Lovino frowned sternly. "Damn cat... you scared the shit out of me, and now look, I spilled the green! Dammit, lime isn't even my color, you little shit." Unconcerned, Oregano finished his trek over the canvas and perched on the edge nearest to Lovino.<p>

Antonio poked his head around the door. Usually Lovino was silent when he painted. "What's wrong?" Then he looked at the picture and saw the green paw prints. "I think they would work well in a painting. Or we could get both cats to walk in colours, have paw prints all over."

"And get it all over my floor? Are you insane? Do you know how expensive this flooring was?" Lovino harped, batting Oregano's paw away when the curious tom tried to get in the sunset orange. "Knock it off, you useless mass of fur."

Tomate came to see what all the fuss was about, and he dove for the purple, knocking it over on the plastic and then rolled in it. "Well, it looks like we will have to give these two a bath anyway. And you have the plastic down." Antonio grinned as the kitten laid down on the canvas, getting the purple all over it.

"You- you- obstinate fuck!" he seethed at Tomate, who didn't even care to regard him while the cursing went on. The Italian growled and flicked the kitten's ear, earning a yelp and what might have been a glare. He scowled back and righted the bowl, muttering to himself about stupid cats and stupid boyfriends and in doing so failed to notice the feline form slinking up to him from the front. He gave a shout when Oregano lunged at him, clutching the cat and nearly falling back onto the canvas himself. "Dammit, Oregano!"

By this time Antonio was almost in tears for how hard he was laughing. "He wants to protect his kitty! And now you have green all over you!" Oh this was perfect! And now there was another trail of green paw prints across the middle of the canvas. Tomate was trying to lick himself so the Spaniard picked him up, not wanting him to get poisoning.

"Hardy har," Lovino chimed sarcastically, gently tugging Oregano's tail. "I don't know why you're trying to tease me- _you're _the fag covered in purple."

Antonio looked down himself and shrugged. He put Tomate down, making sure he wouldn't try to lick himself, and took off his shirt. "There, now only my hands are purple. So what are you going to do?"

Lovino glared down at the canvas and then up at his lover's toned body. An idea began to form in his head and he flushed brilliantly, masking it with a cackle. "A n-nude." Damn his nervous stutter. He recomposed himself, fighting to keep an act of arrogance. "All in purple."

"A nude shot? I don't think I would look very good in purple." Antonio tried getting the paint from his hands. Tomate was pawing at the canvas, getting purple claw marks on it.

"Who said it was going to be of you?" Lovino said and stuck out his tongue, nudging the tiny cat away with his foot.

Antonio lifted a brow chuckled. "Well, who else would it be of?" He moved closer to Lovino, putting his arms around the Italian's shoulders. "After all, I know how much you love to see me nude, and if you had a painting you could see me whenever you wanted."

Lovino turned his head away stubbornly. "That's a little fuckin' presumptuous of you to think that I don't have any willing models, though, don't you think? Besides, I can see your dark-ass body whenever I want. 's nothing special compared to..." He looked down, eying Antonio's body critically for a moment, and picking the name of a beefy former model at random. "Julio's."

That made Antonio frown. He pulled Lovino forward, taking his mouth possessively, and pulled away after biting his lip. "You're not allowed to see anyone naked but me."

"N-not _allowed_?" Lovino sputtered breathlessly, his face darkening a heavy shade of red. "I-I'm a full grown man! I'm allowed to see wh-whoever I want!" And if it would prompt more kisses like _that_, he'd make it as clear as possible.

Antonio glared at him, the obvious Spain part showing through. "Not while we're dating. You see another man naked, I'll punch him in the face and tie you to our bed for a week." Then he seemed to brighten up a bit, regaining control. "Within reason of course. Obviously your brother wouldn't count, or if a fat old guy flashed you. Well in that case I would still beat him up, but I wouldn't tie you to a bed. Unless you would like that."

Lovino stared at him, wide eyed and slack-jawed. The clear cut words and the firm grip around his body made him feel possessed and passionately desired. He shivered and pushed Antonio away. "W-whatever, fine, I won't call anyone, geez..." He kicked Oregano away from the canvas and picked him up around the middle, snagging Tomate up by the scruff of his neck and tossing them both out of the studio.

"So you want to paint me?" Antonio asked, and started undoing his fly so he would be nude. "You don't really have many skin colours. Do you have any more?" He slipped out of his pants and boxers, already started to harden from the kiss and the hot, possessive blood coursing through him.

Flushed and nervous, Lovino didn't have the heart to tell him it had been more of a teasing joke. He grunted in reply and settled on his hands and knees, pulling a pencil from behind his ear. "Hmph. You have to pick a pose and hold still. And I don't want to hear any bitching and moaning about you being stiff, dammit."

"But I thought being stiff would be a good thing." Antonio grabbed a chair and lounged across it, legs casually open, like it was just a random Wednesday and he was watching TV. And the pose was comfortable enough that he could stay like that for a long time. "Is this alright?"

Lovino stared at him for a long moment. His throat went a bit dry and he did his best not to wonder out loud how he could have possibly landed such a perfect sculpture of a man into his life. Shaking his head, the Italian set about to sketching Antonio's outline. "It'll have to do," he answered gruffly.

Antonio rolled his eyes at that and laughed. "Well, when you get to the important bits, let me know and I'll make it stand up for you." Because it would just be torture to be hard for this whole time.

Lovino scoffed. "Why would I want to paint you hard, crazy motherfucker? Shut up and hold still." He glanced up at Antonio and then back down at the canvas, sketching something out quickly and repeating the process until a rough sketch of his lover had been thrown onto the page. Tossing the pencil aside, he re-situated himself into a more comfortable position and dipped a thick brush lightly in a large glass of water before sliding a dollop of orange into yellow and a smidgen of deep, rich brown and traced Antonio's lines and curves of lead on white. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth in concentration and he frowned lightly. Normally after the initial sketch he would let the model off and paint from memory, but he wanted to get the exact contours and shadow of Antonio's body just as it was.

After twenty minutes, Antonio was regretting his decision to do this. It was so boring! "How much longer? Can I see it? Hey, you should get a tattoo. It would look great, like maybe on your hip bone. Like a big juicy tomato... Getting the paint off the cats will be really hard. I'm glad we're getting Tomate de-clawed; he'll be so much easier to deal with. Can I see it?"

Lovino wasn't fooled. He snorted, smirking lightly. "I knew your attention span wasn't cut out for this. See, this is why models are _professionals. _Some people just have the patience others don't." He glared when Antonio started to shift. "If you move, I'm going to give you a vagina."

"Shut up, you're not going to paint something that you're not attracted to. You probably don't even know what a vagina looks like." Did he have to be _completely _still? If Lovino was painting a different part of his body, couldn't he move other parts? "Besides, I think I should masturbate, because won't it look amazing if I have some cum on my stomach?"

Lovino tried not to shiver at the thought. "Damn, you're such a fruit. If you want to jack off, go do it in the bathroom. I'll just finish by myself."

"Come on, you want to see me masturbate. I know that I would love to see _you _masturbate." Antonio changed position a bit, and brought his hand to his cock, giving a few slow, lazy tugs.

He watched that enormous hand stroke the dark, slowly hardening cock for a long moment before he swallowed and tore his eyes away, busying himself with the painting. "D-dammit, Antonio! I'll make it four inches long if you don't knock it off!"

"I _am _knocking off." The Spaniard laughed, but did end up stilling his hand. After all, he was much bigger than four inches and he deserved the credit. Instead he entertained himself with watching Lovino's face as he painted, that cute pink tongue sticking out at times in deep concentration.

The Italian filled in the color of Antonio's skin from the top and as the tanned face finished drying, he began mixing colors for Antonio's eyes. At first there was too much yellow, and then too much brown, and then too much green. He growled and glared up at the bemused Spaniard on the couch. "Get the fuck down here. I need to see your eyes."

He did as asked, still chuckling. "What's wrong? They're just green." He knelt down in front of Lovino so he could see his eyes better. Not that it was too difficult- he had seen Lovino paint people's eyes before and he never had a problem.

Glaring into the green for a long moment he glanced down at his paints, looking back, and added a tiny bit of blue, a bright swirl of yellow. He leaned closer to Antonio for a moment before making a noise of satisfaction and leaning back over the painting, filling in the lazy almond shape of his eyes.

Before going back to the chair, Antonio gave him a quick kiss. "How about a break? Your hand must be tired of holding something so small for so long." He lifted his eyebrow provocatively, reaching for Lovino's hips.

Heaving an unmanly cry, Lovino toppled over on top of him, hissing. "Fuuuck, my leg's asleep, fuck fuckin' shit owww!" He grasped at the painfully tingling limb and bit his lip, his weight heavy against Antonio. He whimpered and rolled his head onto the Spaniard's shoulder. "I fucking -agh! Fucking hate it when this happens!"

"I rather like it when _this_ happens," Antonio said, gripping Lovino's ass. Yes, being under his writhing lover was pretty nice, all things considered.

With a keen, Lovino attempted to compose himself and glared hopelessly at Antonio. "Don't -ah, _fuck_!- don't take advantage of the situation, asshole! I'm in pain here!"

Antonio laughed, and snuck his hand into the back of Lovino's pants. "But aren't I helping by getting blood to flow?" Well, at least it was flowing somewhere. He lifted up his foot and rubbed the Italian's leg, trying to get it back to life.

The Italian whimpered at that, his leg twitching of its own accord. He allowed himself to lean back against Antonio as he massaged his calf, wincing through the intense discomfort. "Th-thanks," he grumbled. As the tiny pinpricks began to fade, he realized that he had another problem; namely, the hand down the back of his pants. "Dammit, Antonio..."

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" he squeezed again, pulling his cheeks apart. Well, this would be as good a time as any to bring up the topic. "Unless you don't want to, of course."

Wriggling and squirming in Antonio's hands, Lovino gnawed mercilessly on his bottom lip. "Why w... wouldn't I want to?" he asked quietly with a frown and a deep, dark blush.

Antonio slid his other hand in his shirt, tugging it up, and moved his first hand to the front of Lovino's pants, running a finger along his manhood. "I don't know. It's just we haven't had sex yet, so I was wondering."

Lovino lifted his arms so the shirt could come off and shook his head to get the mussed bangs out of his eyes. "We... we've done... stuff, lots of stuff." His hips lifted to accommodate Antonio's touches.

"Yeah, but not intercourse. We haven't had sex since before Spain." He lifted Lovino's shirt all the way off and turned him around to face him before he started undoing his fly.

"Oh." Swallowing thickly, Lovino glanced down at Antonio's naked form and then back up at into his eyes, pausing for a moment to regard his lips as he felt a hand pull the slowly hardening member from his underwear. "Is that... bad?"

The Spaniard ran his thumb over the head of Lovino's cock almost thoughtfully. "It's bad if the reason is that you feel uncomfortable around me still. And hell, it's bad for my libido too. I was used to getting sex at least four times a week end then nothing for over half a year!"

"And whose fault is _that_?" he grumbled back with a little groan and a twist. "Mmmh... okay, fine, dammit. I was just kinda a little bit n-nervous, but that was only at first. I didn't know if you were just... just someone new and fuckin' scary who had taken over Spain... _oh_." He lifted his hips and pulled Antonio to him, burying his face in the crook of the Spaniard's neck and biting the warm, taut skin there.

"So are you alright with it now? Or should I go put this lube back in our room?" He grinned, detaching himself from Lovino and crawling to his pants to pull a small bottle of lube out of his pocket that he had been carrying around for a week.

"In here?" Lovino said incredulously. He gestured around the studio, toward the half-open window and the paints everywhere and a nearly-dry rough draft portrait of Antonio nude. "But that's... that's just fuckin'..." An admittedly arousing thought. He just shook his head and slipped his hands down around Antonio's naked cock when he crawled back. "Well, we've done it in weirder places, right?"

Antonio hummed in satisfaction, popping the lid of the bottle open. "Yeah, much weirder. But at least the cats are out of the room." Not that it would really change much- it would just be kind of awkward to have Tomate (the attention slut) pawing at his arm as he was doing naughty things with his lover.

Lovino smirked and teased the hardened member with his fingertips. He loved that cock for its perfection, and he shivered as a jolt of arousal burst through him at the thought of finally, after so long, feeling it inside of him again. "Oregano would be jealous," he snorted, nibbling at the spot under Antonio's ear that he knew was sensitive.

"And Tomate would get mad. Take your pants off. God I just want to fuck you so bad..." Antonio breathed out, already completely hard. It was too bad that he still had to take the time to stretch Lovino. It would be perfect if he could be stretched all the time.

Lovino pulled back to regard him in surprise for a moment before turning red and releasing Antonio's cock, laying back half across the large canvas to wriggle out of the tight jeans. "You don't have to be so pushy about it, damn."

"If I wasn't pushy we would never get anywhere. You certainly didn't seem to mind the no sex thing." He tugged on the bottom of his jeans to help, and soon Lovino was just as naked as he was. "Damn, you're so sexy... you should suck on my cock while I prepare you."

Any protest to the first statement was stuck in his throat by the second. He swallowed and scowled to regain his composure. "Yeah, I'm the hottest piece of ass you'll ever get. Might as well keep the favors coming." He sat up, wincing as a bit of wet paint that had spilled sucked his back to the canvas as he pulled away. He craned his neck over his shoulder, grumbling. "Dammit... I've got fuckin' pink all over me!"

Antonio laughed and ran his fingers through the blue paint, and smeared it across his back as well. "Now you're all colours. You look like a painting." He leaned closer, licking a trail of skin that didn't have any paint on it.

Lovino dipped his head to the side, curling Antonio's hair into his fist and pulling gently, closing his eyes. "Fuck, 'Tonio," he mumbled, feeling around for the Spaniard's hand. He took the bottle of lube and spread his legs, squirting a bit into his own palm and slicking his own fingers before cocking his hips and sliding a finger inside of himself.

Realizing quickly what Lovino was doing, the Spaniard sat up so he could watch. "Yeah, open yourself up for me, just like that. How tight are you after all this time? Or did you finger yourself before, thinking of me?"

Lovino's body reacted to the words and he shook his head, his foot accidentally knocking into a little bowl of yellow. The color spread along the plastic sheet and Lovino's toes slid through on their way to Antonio, streaking the Spaniard's calves with sunshine. "No, I... _fuuuck, _I haven't... I couldn't..." He tried to wiggle another finger in, meeting resistance. He huffed and laid back, lifting his hips and curling his toes and forcing his own finger inside.

"So you only do this with me? What, your Catholic values coming back in strange ways all of the sudden?" He had always found it cute that Lovino had been raised Catholic- now he just found it hot. Little Catholic school boy, always being good. Maybe being an alter boy. Fuck, he had to stop thinking about this or he would be too far gone.

Lovino shook his head again, gasping. "No, fffuckin' dumbshit, I j-just didn't want to!" He reached for the spot the old Antonio had known like the back of his hand, but his fingertips only barely brushed. He whined and bucked and stretched but it would not be moved.

Seeing how hard he was panting, Antonio figured he was ready. He reached back, pulling Lovino's fingers out. "Get on all fours like a slut. Like a cock slut. That's what you are, isn't it? Didn't want to do it yourself because you need my cock, not just fingers." He was grinning as he got behind him, saw that puckered hole twitching.

Lovino glared and reached up, knotting his fingers in Antonio's hair and pulling him forward, ravaging his mouth in a savage kiss. He tugged on Antonio's swollen lower lip with his teeth and rolled onto his back before he dragged Antonio down with him, biting and growling, upturning forest green. It soaked into his auburn hair. "Who the fuck are you to call me a slut, you fucking son of a bitch," he hissed, grinding up against Antonio, his legs slipping up around the tanned hips and locking at the ankles.

"Well you're the one who's going to be begging for it in about a minute," Antonio growled against Lovino's neck, thrusting his cock between the Italian's ass cheeks, right over his hole. After all, it had been a long fucking time; he wasn't going to make it _easy _for him.

The Italian pushed him back roughly and when Antonio fell on his back, Lovino crawled over him, shaking his head in an almost dog-like fashion. Flecks of green landed all along Antonio's torso and face and when he stopped, panting and smirking, paint-damp strands of hair clung in tendrils to Lovino's neck. He swayed his hips back and forth gently against the thick member. "Probably about as much as you're gonna beg for my asshole, asshole."

Antonio growled, bucking harshly to try and get the Italian off. But Lovino wrapped his legs around him, so he had to push off from the ground and grab his shoulders. "No one rides me you fucker." He held Lovino down on the ground by his shoulders, leaned down and bit part of his skin at the base of his neck, before soothing it with his tongue.

Crying out, Lovino met the challenge with his nails, sliding them down Antonio's back. "You fucking _wish _I would ride you, motherfucker," he bit back, pulling Antonio's head up and catching the Spaniard's lower lip between his teeth. He was frightened and thrilled, invigorated by the challenge and the brilliant specimen between his legs.

Antonio ripped his mouth away and moved to the smaller brunet's nipple, teasing it with his teeth. Then he got an idea, and knew exactly how to make Lovino beg. One of his free hands went up, fisted his curly hair and tugged.

Lovino's mouth opened in a silent cry, his entire body throbbing. He tried to curse, shout, anything, but all that came out was a whimper. He was impossibly hard and moved against Antonio to prove it.

"Do you like that? Yeah? What do you want?" Antonio tugged harder on the hair, thoroughly enjoying the reaction he got. "Say it."

Lovino shook his head and bit his lip, green smearing over the plastic sheet. Part of him was just being true to his obstinate nature, and the other secretly thrilled at the wildness in Antonio's eyes and the command in his tone. He could resist comfortably with the Spaniard as he was now more so than he could have with just one or the other of the two that made him: this Antonio wouldn't really hurt him for his resistance, nor would he lose confidence if Lovino continued to tease and hold back. As another stroke to his curl sent a shockwave of incredible pleasure through him his hands scrambled about for purchase, upending electric blue and crimson for his efforts. He smeared his fingers over the nape of Antonio's neck and drew him closer, breathing into his ear. "_Fuck _no."

But he wouldn't back down. Antonio let go of the piece of hair, reached his hand down and rubbed his cock. "Beg me, bitch, you know you want to." With his other hand, he went to Lovino's hole, slipping a finger in. Just to torture him a bit more, he lightly brushed his prostate, making sure that he wasn't hitting it full on. Wouldn't want to give him _too _much pleasure after all.

Lovino gasped, the smirk flying from his face. His spine formed a perfect arch as he tried to impale himself further on the finger, the teasing touches only barely serving him more than his own fingers. "Shit, damn, Antonio!" he cried, panting and flushed.

"If you want more, you're going have to beg." Even though Antonio's cock was almost bursting, he wouldn't stop. After all this time, it would be so great to hear Lovino begging for him to fill him up to the brim.

But it was too much, and before the Italian had even recognized the rush in his own body, he came with a shout. Antonio's fingers stilled inside of him and Lovino panted, his hips jerking sporadically with the aftershock. He panted and his entire body fell limp, his head falling into a puddle of something bright, cheerful and faintly pungent. He glared up at Antonio, flushed from embarrassment. "W-what the fuck, you bastard? Who told you you could make me come early?"

"You wouldn't have if you had just begged me." Antonio took out his fingers with a soft pop and licked some of the cum off his hand. "It's been so long. I bet you'll be hard again in a few minutes. Especially if I have anything to say about it." He smirked, and moved his own erection so that it was more comfortable.

Lovino groaned and looked past the rise and fall of his own chest toward the member in Antonio's hand. He licked his lips and glanced up toward the bright green eyes of his lover. "You still gonna fuck me?"

He shrugged, ran his hand up Lovino's side. "If you beg me for it. Just because you came doesn't change what I want." The hand that was still on his cock started moving up and down, not fast enough to get him off, but just enough to keep him hard.

Lovino pouted. Would he put his pride on the line for that cock? He glanced toward it again, dark and full and aching in Antonio's hand, and he swallowed. The answer was only too clear.

He pushed himself up, half-hard cock dangling between his legs and rolled onto his knees, his palms flat on either side of Antonio's hips. The slick hole throbbed in anticipation. "Please," he muttered, nibbling at the juncture between Antonio's shoulder and neck, "please fuck me."

"Yeah, there's a good little bitch." Antonio grabbed Lovino by the hip, bringing him down and grabbing his own cock to guide him to Lovino's hole. Once he breached it, he let his head fall down in pleasure. "Fuck, I've missed this."

Lovino's breath hitched and he winced, grabbing Antonio's shoulders with paint-slick hands for support. "S-slow down," he mumbled, shifting to adjust. He remembered the sensation, and though well-prepared, his body had decided to treat the invasion as something less than comfortable. He wrapped his legs around Antonio's waist and slowly wriggled, driving the cock in just a bit deeper.

To loosen him up some more, Antonio rubbed the Italian's cock. "Relax, let me in. Fuck, this is why we shouldn't go so long without sex." He leaned back against a chair for support, because with Lovino was in his lap it was difficult sitting up.

Lovino took Antonio's face in his hands, his lips quirking when the sun-loved cheeks streaked with yellow, blue and green. "We won't have to if you don't go changing on me again," he mumbled, punctuating the remark with a kiss.

When they pulled away, Antonio moaned. "I won't change again, I think I'm pretty much stuck like this." After the reassurance, he lightly thrust up into Lovino, getting fully inside him. It was like heaven.

The smaller of the two cursed breathlessly and rested his forehead against Antonio's, the muscles in his calves tightening. "Oh, damn, Antonio, I missed this," he breathed, pushing himself up and falling back down to be filled again and again.

Antonio took his mouth again, exploring it even though he knew it like the back of his hand. But this was too fucking slow. He pushed Lovino down, pressing his back into the plastic and paint, and followed him so he was kneeling. "Oh fuck, you feel so fucking good."

Lovino licked his lips and pulled him down for another kiss, shifting so that Antonio was positioned differently inside of him. He pulled back to reposition his arms and could not hold back a smile at the sight of the paint all along his lover's body. How had he survived without this? "C'mon, fuck me, you damn bastard," he urged, his nose bumping Antonio's as he kissed him again.

He pulled the Italian's legs up and used them as leverage so he could thrust in and out faster, the sweat on his forehead mixing with the paint and dripping down his face. Antonio closed his eyes so that it wouldn't go in them. "Yeah? You like that? You like my dick in your ass?"

Little noises jumped from Lovino's lips at every thrust, his erection hard and aching once more. He could barely articulate a thought, and just before he could answer, the glorious cock inside of him found his neglected prostate, and any words were lost in Lovino's wordless cry.

Antonio could tell that because of all the foreplay, neither of them were going to last long. Because of that, he sucked on the skin behind Lovino's ear, a spot where he knew he loved, and twirled his finger around his curly hair.

Fairly certain that Antonio's name was falling from his lips in a steady chant, Lovino tried to keep up with the Spaniard's pace. He was faintly aware of the sound of Antonio's breath right by his ear and he whimpered, tightening around him. His memory offered in that moment the very first time he had ever let Antonio inside and, just as he had then, he held Antonio close and tried not to cry. "I fucking adore you, bastard..!"

"Fuck, I love you," Antonio moaned as he came, deep inside his lover's body. He kept thrusting through his orgasm, before pulling out, some cum dripping out of Lovino's hole.

Lovino groaned and fell lax against the floor, nibbling at a bit of Antonio's shoulder that was free of paint and palming his own erection. "Love you, fucker, I love you," he murmured shyly.

Antonio grinned and looked over to him. "Here, let me." He reached over, wrapping his hand around Lovino's cock. "Coming two times within fifteen minutes. What a sexy slut you are."

Lovino shuddered and buried his face into Antonio's neck, panting against his collar bone. He was close, so close, but there was something missing... He blushed down to his chest and trembled, mumbling into Antonio's chest. "F-fingers..."

He chuckled, and sucked on his fingers. Once they were nice and slick, he rubbed them over Lovino's puckered entrance and pushed one finger in, feeling his own semen inside. Almost as soon as he brushed his prostate, the Italian came with a strangled cry, face buried in Antonio's shoulder. Lovino shuddered through his orgasm, his toes curled in pink and orange, mouth open in a cry against Antonio's neck. He panted, falling lax in the Spaniard's arms, exhausted. "Damn, Antonio," he breathed.

"I'm glad we did this again." The Spaniard murmured into his hair, but crinkled his nose when he got a smear of paint across his cheek. "Fuck, we need a shower."

Lovino whined deep in his throat. "But I'm tired as fuuuck. Can't we just... siesta?" He draped his arms over Antonio, pulling back just to meet his eyes. "I'm willing to resort to begging."

With a snort, Antonio got to his feet and snatched the Italian up in his arms, carrying the naked and colorful man to the nearest bathroom.

* * *

><p>Antonio turned the car off and let out a loud groan. "I don't want to do this. Why do I have to do this? I came here when I was two personalities! Now I'm only one, I shouldn't be here." He looked to the passenger seat to Lovino, whose fucking <em>brilliant<em> idea this all was.

Rolling his eyes Lovino stepped out of the car. "Good Lord, why'd you have to come out being such a whiny fuck?" He walked up to the white building, glancing back to make sure Antonio was following. "You might as well say goodbye to everyone. This was a big part of your life."

"But that's over. Everyone in there knows almost everything about Antonio and Spain, but they don't know me!" This was worse than going to that last meeting with Ludwig. Everyone in there had the same problem that he had just rid himself of.

Lovino nodded at the receptionist and signed the taller in. "Then it's about damn time to introduce yourself, isn't it?" Walking down the staircase, he glanced back at the trudging Spaniard and huffed, grabbing his hand. "Just to say goodbye. You don't have to tell anyone anything. It's important, okay?"

They had been having this same conversation for the last week, ever since Lovino found the calendar with the meeting dates on it. And now they were here. The only good thing he could see from this was that he would see Gilbert again. It was strange, thinking of him as Ludwig's brother.

Walking in, Lovino was reminded of the first and only other time he had come. The one that had started so well and ended so terribly. He squeezed Antonio's hand absentmindedly. "At least you don't have to worry about fighting the Captain."

"Although that was pretty fun. We never seriously hurt anyone." They got to the room, and he could hear voices on the other side. Well, it was now or never. He opened it, and was greeted with the broad back of Ivan.

Lovino made a strangled noise at the back of his throat as the hulking giant began to turn and made to hide behind Antonio when a jovial shout erupted nearby. He found himself tugged into the enthusiastic embrace of a rather tall, muscular body. "Dude, you missed the last two meetings! We were getting worried about you!"

"Fuckin'... can't... breathe, Alfred.."

Antonio patted the enthusiastic blond on the shoulder. "Sorry, that was my fault. And ah, this will be the last one we come to." He laughed as Alfred made a pouting face, but then saw Arthur in the corner. "I'll be right back, there is something I have to do." He walked over to the Brit, and held out his hand. "I would like to apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you or the Captain."

Arthur coughed and hurriedly tried to swallow the scone in his mouth. He cleared his throat and grabbed a napkin, replying a little hoarsely, "Ah, well, yes , that's... oh." He received Antonio's hand a little awkwardly. "That's quite alright. After all, I'm half to blame."

"Not you. But I am mostly to blame." He grinned and looked over to Alfred and Lovino. "This is going to be my last time here. I'm moving on, so I probably won't see you again." Not that that was a bad thing. They had never really been friends, never wanting to get close in case one of their personalities got out.

Arthur straightened his sweater vest and regarded the pair at Antonio's side. He rolled his eyes as Alfred dragged a protesting Lovino over to the table laden with food. "Oh? That's a good thing, I suppose?"

He nodded, still smiling. "Yeah, it is."

Meanwhile, Lovino griped at Alfred as the boisterous blond insisted on piling a plate high for him. "I told you, dammit, I don't _like_ketchup. It's an affront to tomatoes everywhere!"

"Come on, you can't have fries without ketchup! That's what ketchup was made for! It's way better than tomatoes anyway." He continued filling the plate, and squirting ketchup all over the french fries.

Lovino winced at the atrocity. "That's causing me _physical pain,_you douchewad. And how could you say that? Tomatoes are the salt of the earth!" He looked around to see if Antonio was nearby to back him up on the matter. But he was busy talking to the Brit, so Alfred handed him over the plate once it was completely filled with food. "So why weren't you guys here? And why aren't you coming again? Oh! Are you guys moving somewhere? Getting married? I always wanted to get married to Arthur, but the Captain really doesn't like marriages. Always says that they aren't any good on the open sea."

Lovino choked on the strawberry in his mouth and turned bright red, looking away. "N-no, we're... there was just a big thing with Spain, and... open sea?"

"Well we have a lake by our house, that's about as close as he gets to open sea. I swear, we can never go to the beach, because the Captain always comes out and starts attacking people, saying he was marooned because he can't find his ship. I tried asking Arthur why exactly he got a pirate as a personality but he never tells me." As was per usual, Alfred didn't really shut up. "So what was wrong with Spain? He usually isn't out that long. But what do I know, I only see Antonio every few months."

Lovino shrugged and stared at his plate. "He just... came out and stayed out. He was out for almost half a year, and then... shit happened and I got Antonio back. Sort of." Lovino glanced up at the two chatting across the room. "You two seem so... together. Like this shit doesn't really phase you at all. So why do you come to these things?"

The American stuffed half a burger in his mouth. "It still helps, talking with other people like us. It's not perfect, not even a normal relationship is perfect, we just have more... interesting problems. Plus, I love seeing my bro trying to pretend like he isn't in a relationship with Gilbert." He pointed over to where the shy doctor was trying to stop Gilbert... Gilbird from beeing so noisy.

"If you say so..." He munched on a carrot and regarded the blond. Awkwardly he cleared his throat and shuffled from foot to foot. "Um... hey. Thanks for... uhm." He glared at his plate, cheeks dusted with color. "Thanks for talking to me... and shit. I... when Spain was out for all those awful months, I kinda... remembered what you said. About, you know..." He rubbed his cheek and scowled at an empty chair. "L-loving them both. I couldn't believe it, but it really fucking helped. So thanks."

Alfred thought that was a little strange, but nodded anyway. "You're welcome. I actually got the same advice from Berwald! In fewer words, of course."

Lovino glanced at Alfred out of the corner of his eye. He nearly found himself wishing that Antonio wasn't so against coming back. He really didn't mind the people here at all, despite how obnoxious and blond they might be. At the mention of the vaguely familiar name, Lovino glanced around. His eyes landed on the towering form of the glowering man some distance away standing with the short, pretty man and... "Is that a- oh yeah, they were planning to adopt. Fucking amazing." He was reminded of a conversation he'd shared with Antonio months and months ago about adopting. He turned a little warm, wondering idly if the new Antonio would maybe still want to.

It was then that Antonio finished his conversation with Arthur, and went over to Lovino, wrapping his arm around him. "What are you talking about? Not me I hope."

Lovino scowled at him and huffed. "Narcissistic bastard. Everything's gottta be about you, doesn't it?"

"I believe that's how Alfred feels," Arthur said cooly, coming to stand right beside Alfred. He held his hand out to Lovino. "Terribly sorry about the last time we... well, we didn't properly meet, did we?"

Lovino took his hand, the business-minded polite side of him taking over. "It's fine. Lovino Vargas."

"Arthur Kirkland. A pleasure."

"Likewise." Lovino allowed himself to lean closer to Antonio as Alfred and Arthur engaged in conversation with each other and the Spaniard, occasionally looking to Lovino with respective looks of exasperation and eagerness. The way they were reminded him of Antonio and himself in a fashion that was almost uncanny. He looked up at his lover, wondering if maybe he was thinking the same.

When Antonio looked down and met his eyes with an olive-green brightness and a warm smile, he had to tear his eyes away to stifle his incredible, overwhelming urge to kiss him. Alfred had been right; it would have been nearly impossible to maintain a healthy relationship with Antonio if he couldn't love all sides of him. Falling for both sides had been more than worth it. He rested his cheek on Antonio's shoulder, smirking softly at the squabbling couple just feet away.

What the two broken halves had found in him had given him meaning, and what he had discovered in the whole was something he wouldn't change for the world.

Now, if only he could convince Antonio to enjoy cooking again...


End file.
